


i thought i was a hero (but i was just a child)

by killerqueenwrites (KillainsTales)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Asylum, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Accidents, Coma, Febuwhump, Fluff, Gunshot Wounds, Head Injury, High School Drama, Hostage Situations, Humour, Hurt Peter Parker, Hypothermia, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Irondad & Spiderson, Kidnapping, Not Really Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Endgame, Protective Tony Stark, Slight claustrophobia, Teen for language, Temporary Amnesia, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Torture, Underage Drinking, Waterboarding, Whump, but i'm glad you guys are enjoying it too, it's barely there but be careful anyway, let's see if i can keep to deadlines lmao, may is done with your shit tony, probably not, slight human experimentation, some time travel fuckery, this is so self indulgent lmao, trying to tag without giving spoilers is a ride, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 62,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillainsTales/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: 28 days of irondad and spiderson whump: this is the febuwhump writing challenge.





	1. trapped

**Author's Note:**

> sup! this is my first work for marvel, but i love irondad so much that i couldn't help myself. i hope you enjoy! this isn't betaed so everything wrong is my fault lol.
> 
> the title is from worth the fight by broods.
> 
> ~ ciara

It’s such a stupid thing.

 

Everything seems small after Thanos and the war. Half the universe died and came back to life; after that, he feels invincible.

 

Or at least Peter feels like their standard ‘Issue of the Week’ - honestly, it’s like he’s living in _Supernatural_ or _The X Files_ \- isn’t a big problem.

 

How wrong he is.

 

He gets the notification while he’s out on patrol. Some kind of robots are attacking Manhattan – and really, don’t people ever get bored? The world just ended and started up again; take a break.

 

Huh, he should put that on a billboard. _Please Can Bad Guys Not For a While: Spider-Man is Very Small and Tired._

 

Right. Crazy flying robots are wreaking havoc in Manhattan, or something.

 

So he swings over as fast as he can, landing only a couple of blocks away from the Tower that Mr Stark used to own, and Karen patches into their comms.

 

“Hey, guys!”

 

 _“Oh,_ good _, the kid’s here.”_

 

 _“Do I need to remind you that this kid once beat your ass into the ground, Sam?”_ Steve Rogers says.

 

Peter grins. Once he’d…come back and they’d all gotten past what-the- _fuck_ -Tony-he’s-a-kid, the Avengers had all pretty much accepted him straight away. Which is cool. He‘s totally cool about it. “Where do you need help?”

 

 _“Check the buildings for civilians,”_ Steve says. _“It won’t be safe if they start to come down.”_

 

As if on cue, a robot crashes into the side of an office block and sends debris raining down on the sidewalk.

 

“Okay, on it!”

 

_“Hey! Welcome to the party, kid.”_

 

 _“Once again, Stark,”_ the Actual Freaking Black Widow says, _“we need to rework your definition of party.”_

 

_“Eh, details.”_

 

“Mr Stark!” Peter says. “Hey!”

 

_“Don’t sound so surprised, Underoos.”_

 

Except Peter has every right to be surprised because Mr Stark is supposed to be _retired_. They had a ceremony and everything.

 

 _“Tony,”_ Steve says, _“does Pepper know you’re here?”_

 

_“…not exactly?”_

_“Christ, we’re all dead.”_

 

Peter sputters out a laugh as he beckons to some people cowering behind the cash register in a corner store. “Come on, come with me.”

 

The back of his neck starts to tingle. Steve and Mr Stark are still arguing over the comms without any real heat.

 

_“Anyone could’ve handled this. Anyone, Tony.”_

_“Manhattan is my turf.”_

_“Stephen Strange lives down the road.”_

_“You see him here? Huh, Rogers?”_

 

“Come on,” Peter insists, nodding at the people. “Friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, right here. You can’t stay here, guys.”

 

A little girl starts to move, followed by a man who’s probably her father, and then the cashier.

 

“That’s it!” Peter crouches down, going for the non-threatening approach. “Just let me get you out of here.”

 

Something creaks above his head, too quiet for anyone else to hear it. He does his best not to look up; if the people panic, it'll be even worse.

 

“Okay, so just head for those ambulances there. They’ll make sure you’re all right. Watch your heads. Got it?”

 

“Thank you, Spider-Man,” the little girl says as her dad scoops her up and runs.

 

“You got it!” Peter gives her an awkward mash-up of a salute and finger guns before looking around again. He freezes at the sound of a child crying out.

 

 _“Kid, those buildings clear yet?”_ Sam swoops overhead. _“We need somewhere to throw these bastards that isn’t the street.”_

 

“One second!” Peter sprints towards the noise.

 

_“What, are you going back in? Kid? Hey, Spidey!”_

 

“Hello!” Peter ducks into the rubble of what probably was a bank half an hour ago. “Anyone in here?”

 

The crying gets louder.

 

“I’m gonna help you! Just tell me where you are.”

 

He catches movement out of the corner of his eye; a kid, maybe about three or four years old, stumbles over the piles of debris towards him.

 

“Hey!” Peter runs over and crouches down beside them. “Hey, kid. Are you alone?”

 

He gets a tearful nod, the kid’s lower lip quivering.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you now. Can I pick you up?”

 

Another nod.

 

“Cool. We’ll be out of here soon, kiddo.”

 

Peter scoops the kid up and starts to jog towards the door. The building creaks again, showering dust on their heads.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Peter chants when the toddler whimpers, “we’re nearly there.”

 

He’s nearly at the door when it happens.

 

The back of his neck starts to itch again, so Peter glances up in time to see Sam wrestling with one of the flying robots, kicking it away and sending it sailing into the bank, a few floors above his head.

 

“Oh, shit,” Peter mumbles.

 

_“Pete?”_

 

He ignores Mr Stark. Something red and blue flashes in his line of vision.

 

All he can do is launch the toddler through the air and into the waiting arms of Captain America.

 

_“Peter!”_

 

Mr Stark never calls him that.

 

His senses scream and he looks up to see the Iron Man suit shooting towards him. The tingling on the back of his neck becomes a stabbing pain.

 

Something crashes into him. Everything goes black.

 

* * *

 

“Kid?”

 

Ow.

 

“Kid, open your eyes.”

 

It’s dark. He can’t breathe. Something is pressing down on his back, his legs, pinning him to the ground.

 

No, he can’t be here again, he _can’t_ -

 

“Parker, wake up!”

 

Peter opens his eyes and sucks in a breath.

 

“Okay, okay, good. You’re alive. That’s good. Great.”

 

He knows that voice. “Mr Stark?”

 

No, Mr Stark can’t be here too.

 

“Hey, calm down, Underoos. It’s okay. We’ll be fine.”

 

“No,” Peter gasps, “no, I’m stuck.”

 

“Yeah, we are, but we’ll be okay.”

 

“I can’t move-“

 

“Sh, sh, It’s okay.”

 

“I can’t breathe, I can’t-“

 

“Pete, calm down, _please_.”

 

Peter opens his eyes. It’s dark, dust hanging in the air that stings his eyes and clogs his nose _._ Mr Stark looks back at him, lying about a foot away with his suit dented and battered.

 

“What…?”

 

“We, uh, got a little stuck.” Mr Stark grins. “Nothing to worry about. Comms are dead, but I’m sure Cap will be digging us out soon.”

 

“Oh, no, no, no.” Before everything happened, Peter would have been embarrassed about freaking out in front of Mr Stark. That was before he died, crying in his arms. Priorities tend to change after something like that. “No, I can’t do this again, I can’t-“

 

“Again?”

 

Oops.

 

“N-nothing, Mr Stark.”

 

“Parker.”

 

Isn’t it fun how he can tell how annoyed Mr Stark is at him by the nicknames he uses?

 

“Okay, okay, jeez.” Peter reaches up to his mask.

 

“Touch that, and I will kick your ass into the Sun. It’s filtering your air.”

 

“Fun,” Peter says weakly. “Being kicked into the Sun, I mean. Wonder how long it’d take.”

 

“Come on then, child prodigy. Work it out. How far away is the Sun?”

 

“It varies, depending on the time of year.”

 

“Approximately.”

 

“About…ninety million miles.”

 

Mr Stark smiles like a proud dad. Does Peter get to think that? Is he allowed to have this? “Good. Okay. How fast would you be travelling?”

 

“How hard can you kick?”

 

Another smile. “Stop trying to distract me, kid. I’m getting that story.”

 

“I thought you were distracting me.”

 

“Is it working?”

 

Peter gives him a grateful look, hoping he can see it through the mask. “Kinda.”

 

They fall silent for a moment.

 

“Mr Stark?”

 

He tries to pretend he doesn’t see Mr Stark flinch. “Yes?”

 

“Why did you – in the nicest possible way, why are you here?”

 

“The rubble collapsed on your head. I stopped it crushing you.”

 

“Yes, but-“

 

“Are you really asking me why I saved your life?” Mr Stark closes his eyes. “You’re the worst.”

 

“And you’re supposed to be retired. Miss Potts – uh, Mrs Stark is going to literally disembowel both of us.”

 

“No, she likes you too much. Seriously, kid, you think I want to lose you again? Once was enough, thanks.”

 

“Risking the wrath of your pregnant wife? I’m touched.”

 

“You better be, you little shit.” Mr Stark rolls his eyes. “Gotta make sure my kid has a big brother, don’t I?”

 

Peter opens his mouth. No sound comes out.

 

“I can’t see your face under there, so you gotta give me some kind of sign that you haven’t died. Pete?”

 

“I-“

 

“Okay, good. You still feel okay? Let me know if anything changes, anything at all.”

 

“Mr Stark-“

 

“Still here, kid. Can’t move much.”

 

“I’m going to be the best big brother ever.”

 

“I know, Pete,” Mr Stark says gently. “I know.” He looks around again. “Isn’t this fun? Near death experiences really do bring out a different side to people, or so Rogers is going to find out if he takes any longer getting us out of here.”

 

Here. Under the rubble. Peter’s breathing speeds up again.

 

“No, no – dammit, I really thought I’d distracted you that time.”

 

“Appreciate the effort.”

 

“Hmm, I almost miss when you were scared of me. You were more polite.”

 

“I wasn’t scared of you.”

 

“No?”

 

“No, I was fanboying. There’s a difference.”

 

“Good God,” Mr Stark says with no small amount of amusement, “you shouldn’t be this cute. You’re a teenager.”

 

“I’m not cute-!”

 

“Does adorable work for you?”

 

“Mr Stark!”

 

Something shifts above them. Peter sucks in a breath and holds it.

 

“Okay…” Mr Stark says slowly. “Let’s go with they’re digging us out, okay?”

 

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. It’s just like the warehouse, he’s going to die-

 

“Kid, just talk to me,” Mr Stark says. “Keep talking. Don’t think about anything else, okay? Tell me…tell me what you meant about not again.”

 

“Uh. Uh, okay, so…Homecoming. The Vulture – I tracked him to this warehouse before he went after the plane. We talked and he – his wings took out the columns and I didn’t notice, and I didn’t have Karen-“

 

“Because I took your suit,” Mr Stark groans.

 

“Mr Stark, it’s okay-“

 

“Fuck, kid, you almost died.”

 

“Didn’t, though.”

 

“No, how lucky you survived that only to nearly die three more times in the next _hour_.”

 

Peter rolls his eyes, despite himself. The debris creaks and groans like a band tuning up. “Oh, yeah, this seems fine.”

 

“Have I mentioned I miss when you weren’t this snarky?”

 

“Death changes you.” Peter winces. “Okay, sorry, that was _bad_.”

 

Mr Stark shakes his head in disbelief, but he doesn’t seem too disturbed. Maybe this is healing. Maybe they’ll be fine. “Are all kids your age like this?”

 

“Humour is a product of our childhood influences and social context, so yes.”

 

“Thanks, Sherlock. That’s terrific. Can’t wait for Baby Stark to reach this stage.”

 

“Don’t worry, Mr Stark. By the time your baby gets to my age, their sense of humour will be just as weird and confusing, but somehow entirely different.”

 

“Oh, _perfect_.”

 

With one last gravelly crack, the rubble lifts and topples over. Daylight filters through the dust, mixed with a familiar orange glow. They’ll be fine.

 

“Ah,” an even more familiar voice says. “Here they are.”

 

Mr Stark stands up, offering Peter his hand. “Where the hell have you been?”

 

Doctor Strange is one of those rare people who manages to toe the line between offended and amused. He does just that now, raising one eyebrow and staring down at them. “I had a thing.”

 

“A thing?” Mr Stark repeats, hoarse with disbelief. “What thing?”

 

“An important thing.” Doctor Strange waves his hands and the orange sparks fizzle out.

 

“Important?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What the _fuck_ is more important than flying robots demolishing Manhattan and burying me and the kid?”

 

“Hm. I am sorry, Peter.” Doctor Strange turns to him. “If I’d known you were trapped with Stark, I would have come much faster.”

 

Mr Stark splutters something incoherent but clearly outraged. This is normal. They’ll be fine.

 

“That’s not fair, Dumbledore.” Sam Wilson lands and pushes up his goggles with an expression that means trouble. “I’d rather be stuck with Stark than the kid. Imagine him rambling on for hours and you can’t even get away?”

 

Peter resists the urge to stick his tongue out as they stumble over piles of rubble and marble into the afternoon sun. Mr Stark reaches out and throws his arm around Peter’s shoulders, a quiet reassurance to both of them.

 

Yeah. He’ll be fine.


	2. peer pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everyone else was doing it."
> 
>  
> 
> “If everyone else-?”
> 
>  
> 
> “Don’t finish that sentence. If everyone else jumped off a bridge, I’d shoot webs and catch them all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back with day 2! thank you so much for all your kudos and comments, they mean so much. everything wrong with this is my fault, and my experiences are entirely based off growing up in england.
> 
> warnings in this chapter for alcohol and underage drinking.

“One more!”

 

“No, I-“

 

“Come on, Parker! We’re all doing it.”

 

“Oh, um, okay.” Peter slides his shot glass over. The two guys standing either side of him – he thinks they’re on the football team – cheer and give him clumsy pats on his shoulders.

 

This is weird. The Decathlon team decided to meet back up, some older than others after the chaos of Thanos and legally able to drink, and some of the sports teams had turned up, too.

 

Flash refills the glasses, most of what he pours going on the floor, and pushes them back around the table. Cindy lifts hers to salute Peter with a hint of irony before dissolving into giggles.

 

“‘Kay, three…two…one!”

 

Peter tips his head back and throws the vodka down his throat. He sticks his tongue out to get rid of the taste, although he doesn’t mind it as much as the first one he had.

 

One of the football guys staggers backwards and collapses through the door. A moment later, Peter hears him retching.

 

“Adam’s out!” Flash announces. “‘Nother one?”

 

“I dunno…” Peter mumbles. He doesn’t feel bad, and he definitely doesn’t feel like a trip to the bathroom, but something’s definitely happening. Every thought seems like it’s coming through on a delayed line, his hands feel funny and he’s not sure how he’s still standing when his legs are numb.

 

“Hey, Peter?”

 

“Ned! Hey!” Peter turns to him with a wide grin. He loves his friend! “D’you want a shot?”

 

“No, I’m good.”

 

“Aww, c’mon, Leeds.” Flash points across the table, his hand nowhere near steady and his arm flailing like a windmill. It’s hilarious, so Peter laughs. “Just one?”

 

“No, thank you,” Ned says. “Peter, can I borrow your phone?”

 

“Sure thing, man!” Peter reaches into his pocket and fumbles it. “Woah!” He laughs again.

 

“Do not drop that,” Ned hisses, snatching it and walking away.

 

“Leeds, shots!” Flash calls. “C’mon, everyone. Shots, shots, shots shots shots shots.”

 

Nothing.

 

“Aww,” Peter says.

 

The drinking game around the table disperses, put off by Ned’s mood, and everyone wanders back into the lounge. At some point, somehow, Peter finds himself on a couch next to Flash, who’s still chanting shots-shots-shots-shots-shots-shots under his breath.

 

“Y’know…” Flash says with an obvious effort. “British kids say that when they’re drinking.”

 

“Do they?”

 

“Yeah, I hung out with some once. In London. I went to London, you know? With my dad. On a bus’ness trip.”

 

“‘S’cool.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah. Y’know in England, they can drink – they can drink when they’re eighteen?”

 

“No way.”

 

“Like, how is that fair, Parker? How?”

 

‘S’not.”

 

“An’ – an’ sometimes they drink b’fore eighteen!”

 

“Wild.”

 

“You - you can hold your vodka, Parker.”

 

“I app- a- I like that you’re not calling me Penis. ‘S’not nice.”

 

“No,” Flash agrees. “Why do I do that?”

 

“Dunno, man.” Peter looks across the room and sees Ned, standing beside MJ and waving at him. He waves back.

 

MJ raises her eyebrows and Peter realises Ned isn’t waving. He’s beckoning.

 

Oh. Phone?

 

“Be right back. Ned has m’phone.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Flash says.

 

Peter picks his way across the room, only stumbling once, and finds himself by the door. And Ned. Ned is by the door. Awesome.

 

“Phone?” Peter says.

 

“Maybe I should hold onto it.”

 

“You know,” a new voice says, “when Fred called me, I expected a crack den or something. This, on the other hand…” Mr Stark’s face swims into his line of vision, and Peter is definitely going to die. “This is so much worse.”

 

“Hey!” Peter exclaims. He’s probably in trouble, but Mr Stark’s here! He loves Mr Stark!

 

“Do not ‘hey’ me in that tone of voice,” Mr Stark says flatly. “Where are your things?”

 

“They’re here.” MJ holds up a bag. Is that Peter’s bag? It might be.

 

“Thank you.” Mr Stark takes it. “You. Car. Now.”

 

Something in Peter rears up at being spoken to like a toddler. “Why?”

 

“Why? Because I said so!” That sounds familiar.

 

“You don’t get…to tell me what to do.”

 

“Kid, get in the damn car.”

 

“No. You’re speaking – speaking t’me like I’m a kid.”

 

“Oh, my God.” Mr Stark leans closer to him. “I’m not doing this right now. I get to speak to you like a child because you’re seventeen years old and you’re _drunk_.” He turns away. “How much has he had?”

 

“I don’t know,” Ned says. He sounds miserable. “They were doing shots.”

 

“Shots-? Jesus.” Mr Stark takes a deep breath. “We’re going.”

 

This time, Peter doesn’t argue. He stumbles outside, the music fading as someone shuts the door, and stumbles to the car. Now it’s quiet, without the energy of everyone else in the room, it’s all he can do to keep his eyes from slipping closed. He waits beside the car, swaying on his feet. It’s okay if he sometimes has to balance himself by leaning against the car, right? No one’s watching.

 

“I can take him, Mr Stark,” Ned whispers.

 

“Not fair to your parents. At least they have a responsible kid. Scary Girl, you have a ride?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Sorry again,” Ned says. “I didn’t know who to call.”

 

“Smart move, Ted. I’ll get him to text you in the morning.” And then Mr Stark is stalking around the car, pointing at Peter. “Get in.”

 

Peter does. He only misses the handle twice.

 

They sit in silence, the heater on full.

 

“‘M hot.”

 

“No, you’re not, you just think you are because _that’s what alcohol does_.”

 

“Mr Stark-“

 

“Goddammit, Parker!” Mr Stark whips his head around, practically snarling. “I thought you were better than this!”

 

It’s too loud in the cramped space. Peter scrunches his eyes shut and puts his hands over his ears.

 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Peter mumbles.

 

“Damn right you’ll be sorry when I tell your aunt about this.”

 

“Oh, no.” Peter lifts his head, twiddling his fingers to make sure they’re still there. They feel weird. “Please don’t tell her.”

 

“…I will consider it. For her sake. Not yours.”

 

“Th’nks.” Peter pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them.

 

“For her sake,” Mr Stark repeats.

 

“You’re _really_ mad.”

 

“No? Really? What makes you think that? Is it the fact you lied to me and May about staying at Ned’s? Maybe because you’re out past your curfew, which was three hours ago? Or maybe because your friend called me, worried about you getting shitfaced?” Mr Stark jabs the ignition button and the car hums to life. “You know what? I can talk and drive. Seatbelt, now.”

 

It’s quiet all the way through the suburbs, until Mr Stark pulls off Queens Boulevard and onto the Long Island Expressway.

 

“This isn’t the way home,” Peter notes, maybe just a little slow on the uptake.

 

“No.”

 

“We going up - upstate?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“‘Kay.”

 

“Your aunt has an early shift and I’m not waking her up to look after you.”

 

“Oh.” Peter hadn’t even thought about that. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry.”

 

Mr Stark looks over at him again, but his glare doesn’t sear into Peter like it did before. “Look, whatever, kid. Just…take a nap. I’ll chew you out in the morning when I know you’re gonna remember and I’m not gonna say anything I’ll regret. You feel sick?”

 

Peter shakes his head.

 

“Okay. Just…if you do, it’s better for it to come up. Got it?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“There’s water in the side of the door.”

 

“‘Kay.” Peter curls up again. His mouth is dry and the pleasant fuzz is wearing off. He’d wondered if he would digest alcohol quicker than other people, and it seems he’s working through the stages of being drunk faster as well. Now he just feels like crap. “I really am so sorry, Mr Stark.”

 

“I know, kid.”

 

“I just wanted - I wanted to join in. Have fun. Get people to like me.”

 

“Oh, Peter.” Mr Stark sighs, long and slow. “You know I’m the last person to put you off…experimenting and being a kid and living your damn life, especially after what happened, but you had to do it in just about the stupidest way you could, didn’t you?”

 

“Heh. Have you met me, Mr Stark?”

 

"And I know some of your friends are older than you now, and that's shit." Mr Stark shakes his head. “I do think it’s important to find your limits, but going straight to shots? There is almost no worse way to test your alcohol tolerance.”

 

Peter rubs his tired eyes. “Yep. Getting that now.”

 

“Good.” Mr Stark flashes him a grin that’s only slightly vindictive. “Stop you doing it again.”

 

“Hate you.”

 

“No, you don’t.”

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“You’ll hate me in the morning. You’ll hate everyone in the morning, especially yourself.”

 

“I think I’m reaching the morning already.” Peter swallows. “Fast metabolism.”

 

“Huh. Well, like I said: water in the side door, and let it come up if it needs to.”

 

“In your car?”

 

“If you have to.”

 

“Ugh.”

 

“Well, you’re definitely a lot more sober than when I picked you up. Coherent, too. That’s always a bonus.”

 

“Might just…sleep it off.”

 

“Also a good option. FRIDAY, play the kid’s sleep playlist, please.”

 

“This is so sad,” Peter says without thinking, “Alexa, play-“

 

“No!”

 

Peter snorts.

 

“There’s still almost an hour until we get to the Compound, kid. Use it.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Pete?” Mr Stark drums his fingers on the wheel. “You know you shouldn’t have to get drunk off your ass for people to like you. People do like you.”

 

“I know that,” Peter says, sounding a little too petulant for his own liking, “but everyone else was doing it.”

 

“If everyone else-?”

 

“Don’t finish that sentence. If everyone else jumped off a bridge, I’d shoot webs and catch them all.”

 

It’s Mr Stark’s turn to snort. “Go to sleep, Spider-kid.”

 

* * *

  

Mr Stark’s right; Peter does hate himself when he wakes up.

 

It can’t be more than an hour later, because they’re just pulling up outside the Compound, but shit, he feels like death. And shit.

 

“Dry mouth?” Mr Stark says.

 

“Mm.”

 

“Headache?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Hungry?”

 

“Eh.”

 

“Wanting food but also being certain that the food will make a reappearance?”

 

“…yeah.”

 

“Learned your lesson?”

 

“Fewer shots next time?”

 

“Not funny, Parker. Look at me.”

 

Peter does, resting his head back on the seat.

 

“Walking PSA for teen drinking, right here. Got to college; I was the weird, young, smart kid; thought I had to get completely fucked up every night to fit in.”

 

The shock of Mr Stark swearing in a relatively low-stress situation wakes Peter up a little. “Oh?”

 

“No. Don’t do it. It becomes a habit, you start thinking you can’t have fun without it, it makes you do stupid shit – just don’t. I know that because it’s legal – for people _older than you_ , I should point out – it doesn’t seem so bad, but it is. It is bad. What if…you have to walk home one night and it’s cold, but you don’t know that because you _feel_ warm? With your severe lack of homeostasis? Hypothermia.”

 

“I-“

 

“Someone you’re with gets too pissed, passes out, dies – whose fault is it? Who was meant to be looking after them? Should they have been looking after themselves?”

 

“I’m not stupid, Mr Stark.”

 

“I don’t think you are, but sometimes you really act like it. You wanna work out how much you can drink in a safe environment? That’s here, or at your aunt’s, not at the house of someone who doesn’t get on with you. There’s no guarantee they’ll look after you, and even if they do, it’s not fair to make them responsible for you.”

 

“I _know_. Just…the Decathlon team. We wanted to meet up again, to hang out, have fun, and then more people came and Flash wanted to do something more. It got out of hand pretty quickly – it was just supposed to be fun.”

 

“Then go see a movie. You’re all twelve.”

 

“I'm seventeen, Mr Stark. Some of them are older.”

 

“Even better, you can see the grown-up ones.” Mr Stark flexes his left hand. “I know I’m not your dad, kid, but when I say I want you to be better than me, this is what I’m talking about.” He pauses. “I think I finally understand what parents mean when they say ‘do as I say, not as I do’. They mean ‘don’t follow my example’.”

 

“You are a good example, Mr Stark.”

 

“Lies.” But he’s smiling.

 

“And I really do appreciate you hauling my ass out of Flash’s house in the middle of the night.”

 

“I should hope so. And as your cruel and unusual yet thoroughly deserved punishment, I’m gonna let Cap lecture you.”

 

“Oh, no,” Peter moans. “Please, I’ll do literally anything.”

 

Mr Stark opens his door with a smile. “Drink responsibly!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed that! day 3 is 'taken' and i have a Plan for it.


	3. taken (pt.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boring, simple, easy, routine.
> 
> Wrong. There's no such thing as routine missions with the Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is day 3! warnings for the baby shark song.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

You’d think, after all this time, that secret organisations would stop popping up all over the place.

 

The world ended, the Avengers dragged it back to its feet, and people are still out there not letting them have a break. At least this mission should be pretty simple, especially compared to what they’ve had to do before. Take out their defences, get in, see what they’re hiding, take them down and get out. Easy. Not a problem.

 

Not to mention the fact that it’s a secret base in the middle of the forest – they’re bordering on a cliché now. It’s boring. Tony’s _bored_. He wants to go home and listen to Pepper complain about anything she feels like. He wants the bad guys to retire so he can retire.

 

Someone should send them a memo. Maybe he'll get Pepper on it; she's very good at being aggressive through every and all forms of communication and he loves it.

 

Tony swoops over the base, letting FRIDAY scan it. “Any shields I should be aware of?”

 

_“Don’t think so, Boss.”_

 

“Awesome. Here comes the air support.”

 

Sam Wilson picks up his flank. Rhodey, very deliberately, doesn’t.

 

“Rhodey, darling, you’re ruining my formation.”

 

_“Good.”_

 

“Isn’t the Air Force about discipline?”

 

 _“That’s coming from you?”_ Rhodey says drily.

 

Peter laughs. He’s somewhere on the ground, in a desaturated version of his usual suit to lend him some more camouflage.

 

“No, no, you don’t laugh at him. You’re my kid; you laugh at my jokes and my jokes only.”

 

_“Is that a rule?”_

 

“Yes, enforceable from right now.”

 

 _“You’re gonna have a lot of fun when your baby reaches the giggles stage,”_ Barton chimes in. _“Everything is funny then.”_

 

“Whoop-de-fucking-doo.”

 

_“Tony-“_

 

“You shut your fucking mouth, Rogers!”

 

Peter laughs again.

 

They do a quick aerial survey of the base, giving FRIDAY enough time to map out the floor plan and the underground tunnels.

 

 _“Everyone ready?”_ Steve says. _“Sam, Tony, Rhodey: you watch the skies. Wanda, Clint, Thor: hang back, you’re our long-distance backup. Nat, Peter: you’re with me on the ground. Is Banner ready?”_

 

Tony snorts at the sound of a roar echoing through the forest. “I’d say so.”

 

_“Let’s go, then.”_

_“Boss, we have incoming!”_

 

Tony spins into a roll just in time to dodge the rocket that had been fired at him. “And they know we’re here! Look, fireworks!”

 

_“Better make it quick, then.”_

 

They fall back into step straight away. It’s rhythm, routine, like nothing ever happened between them. Funny the kind of solidarity that losing half the universe and bringing it back gives people.

 

Figures in dark uniforms scurry around below him, firing bullets and sometimes much bigger things. Lightning, red light, a shield, webs all shoot around the battlefield, picking off the agents, stealing their weapons, taking out bunkers and cars and trucks. The Avengers are more like a well-oiled machine than they ever were before, and Tony blames Peter entirely. The damn kid could charm a plank of wood without even trying.

 

“So, Barton,” he says casually, “tell me again how Baby Stark is going to find absolutely everything funny, but my jokes the funniest?”

 

Clint starts talking, but Peter starts making a noise. It takes Tony a minute to realise he’s _singing_.

 

“Uhh, Medevac on the ground, please. Parker’s gone insane.”

 

 _“Mr_ Stark!” Peter protests. _“It’s a song. Y’know, Baby Shark?”_

 

 _“He was singing Baby Stark,”_ Natasha says.

 

 _“Can I take my hearing aids out?”_ Clint asks.

 

“That’s it, Parker. I’m banning you from the internet.”

 

_“That is so unfair.”_

 

“The crime justifies the punishment.”

 

Peter starts singing again, louder this time. _“Baby Stark, doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-“_

_“Uh-huh, they’re coming out!”_

 

“Parker!”

 

_“I’m singing this to your baby every night and telling them they have a whole song written about them.”_

 

“Oh, my _God_.”

 

_“Tony’s now wondering if it’s too late to adopt a different child.”_

 

“ _Thank_ you, Romanoff. Peter, stay quiet unless it’s an emergency.”

 

_“Sir, yes sir!”_

 

“Silence, demon child.”

 

Somewhere on the ground, Clint chokes on a laugh.

 

They fight on, gaining ground slowly but quicker than Tony had expected. His comms are blissfully quiet, free of Peter bickering with Sam or laughing at Clint’s jokes or getting Wanda to laugh at his jokes. They work like one unit, picking up slack where others drop it.

 

The only problem is that the resistance seems a little…token.

 

“We’re making good progress!” Steve sounds pleased.

 

“Wow, us against Amateur Hour?” Tony says. “I’m so impressed with us.”

 

 _“I don’t like it.”_ Wanda’s thick Eastern European accent has all but disappeared over time, but it returns in full force whenever she’s stressed. Like right now. _“This is too easy.”_

 

 _“Wanda,”_ Steve says, _“I’m sure-“_

 

“No, I’m with Maximoff,” Tony says. “Something feels weird.”

 

 _“All right, check in. Everyone good?”_ Steve calls.

 

A series of affirmations follows: Barton, Romanoff, Wilson, Rhodey, Thor, Vision, Maximoff, and a roar courtesy of the Hulk.

 

“All good up here,” Tony says, blasting two more agents down on the ground.

 

Silence.

 

 _“Spider-Man, status,”_ Steve says.

 

Nothing.

 

Tony’s heart starts to beat a little faster. “I know I said silence, kid, but you can talk now.”

 

Still no answer.

 

“Hey, kid. Stop messing around.” He narrowly dodges a rocket and aims his repulsors at the offending bunker. “FRIDAY, get on Karen.”

 

_“Establishing contact.”_

 

 _“Spider-Man?”_ Steve says again.

 

“Goddammit, Parker!” Tony snaps. “Answer us!”

 

He has to get angry, because if he doesn’t, he’ll freak out. No one needs that.

 

And then his comms crackle.

 

_“-hello? Can anyone-“_

 

Tony’s never been happier to hear someone’s voice. “What’s up with the disappearing act, kid?”

 

_“I can’t – you, I – if you can-“_

 

“Peter?”

 

_“-hear me? Please, please-“_

 

“FRIDAY, where is he?” He can’t panic, he can’t.

 

_“I can’t find Karen.”_

 

“What?”

 

_“-Mr Stark?”_

 

No. _No_.

 

He’s heard that exact tone, that scared little inflection, from Peter before, the day he’d lost him.

 

 _“Tony,”_ Steve says, _“calm down.”_

 

“Don’t freaking tell me to calm down.”

 

 _“I think – coming, I can’t-“_ Peter breaks off, his panicked breathing interspersed with static.

 

 _“Peter, can you hear us?”_ Natasha says.

 

_“There’s someone – sorry-“_

 

Okay, _no_. Tony would wield the gauntlet a thousand times over, relive that pain over and over again, as long as he never had to hear Peter Parker apologise ever again.

 

_“Mr Stark, I’m sorry-“_

 

“Fuck!” Tony swoops closer to the ground, cursing his own decision to make Peter’s suit blend in. “FRIDAY, help me.”

 

 _“Steve, what do we do?”_ Clint says. _“Nat and I are nearly at the building.”_

 

The silence is loaded, heavy like the beat between thunder and lightning.

 

_“Steve?”_

 

 _“Fall back,”_ Steve says slowly. _“Fall back and look for Spider-Man.”_

 

Tony flies back and forth over the trees, getting further away from the building. Sam and Rhodey are looking, too, but they’re working in some kind of formation. Red light swirls and spirals out from a clearing; Wanda is standing at the centre of it.

 

“Peter,” he forces out, praying that something gets through, “Peter, we’re coming, Peter, Peter, Peter.”

 

 _“Hey!”_ Clint calls. _“Hey, I got something!”_

 

FRIDAY shows the way without even being asked, and Tony banks sharply to land next to Clint.

 

“What?” His helmet folds back. “Barton, what?”

 

“Look.” Clint taps his bow against a tree.

 

White webs, tattered and dangling limply, hang off the trunk. Scattered around the roots are crumpled pieces of metal: Peter’s webshooters.

 

“Dammit,” Tony hisses. Peter hasn’t worn the Iron Spider since he got back from Titan, which means it’s very easy for someone to take his webshooters if they can get close enough. And if someone was able to do that… “God-fucking-dammit!”

 

“Stark?”

 

“Shit!” Tony fires his repulsor across the clearing. A tree explodes in a shower of leaves and splinters. “I was supposed to look after him!”

 

 _“He’s one of the team, Tony,”_ Steve says heavily. _“We all should’ve been looking out for him.”_

 

“No, you don’t _get_ it, Rogers.” Another tree erupts and shatters into fragments. “That kid is my responsibility and I lost him.” Remember when he’d thought this mission was going to be boring? Simple, he’d called it, easy. How long before he learns there’s no such thing as routine missions with the Avengers?

 

“Tony-“

 

“Where is he?” Tony blasts another tree. “Where the hell is he?”

 

“Tony, he’s gone!”

 

Tony spins to face Clint, his teeth bared almost in a snarl. Clint doesn’t flinch, though; he knows. He knows the terror that’s setting up camp somewhere deep in Tony’s gut. “No. No, he can’t be. He…”

 

“I’m sorry.” Clint nods at the destruction around them, one hand holding Tony steady. Without it, his knees would have given out. “They’ve taken him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be continued tomorrow.


	4. 'where are you?' (pt.2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s too big for Tony to search by himself; the corridor is lined with doors and other corridors branching off from it. He doesn’t have time. Peter doesn’t have time.
> 
> His suits folds away into its unit. Tony cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Peter? Where are you?”
> 
> part 2 of 'taken'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks out from behind rock* sorry about yesterday? i wrote this freezing my ass off in my student house so i might be projecting just a little. also i posted yesterday’s chapter before the superbowl (sue me, i live in england) and did you SEE the endgame tv spot? this movie is going to destroy me.

Peter wakes up cold.

 

He’s lying on his side, curled into a ball. When he tries to sit up, he finds his hands are cuffed together in front of him.

 

“Spider’s awake.” The voice is gruff and with a thick accent. German? Russian? Eastern European? His head hurts too much to think too hard about it.

 

“Good.” He hates that voice, smooth and cold.

 

The mission. The base. The forest. The fight. His comms going down, and then…?

 

The room is dark, the only light coming from a gap underneath the door. He tries to move his arms, testing the cuffs.

 

“Vibranium, little spider. I doubt even you could break out of those.”

 

Peter can’t even tell if the voices are coming from inside his cell or outside the door. “Why am I here?”

 

“To control the Avengers. For fun. Who knows?”

 

Peter tries to follow the voice, whipping his head around. “Where are you?”

 

“Nowhere you can find me, spider.”

 

The light outside shuts off and Peter’s alone in the dark.

 

* * *

 

 

“What do we do?” Tony makes another lap around the inside of the Quinjet. “Hm?”

 

They’ve retreated to the edge of the forest, hiding out in the jet all night. Tony hasn’t slept; he’s been waiting, hoping against all hope, for some kind of sign.

 

Nothing. Peter’s still missing.

 

Remember when Tony was bored twelve hours ago?

 

Steve rubs his face. “What can we do?” He looks tired. They’re all fucking tired.

 

“I’m not just leaving him in there!” Tony hisses.

 

“As long as they have him, we’re at a disadvantage.” He hates the way Natasha always lays everything out simply and clearly. “Don’t look at me like that; I’m just being realistic. As long as he’s in there, they have leverage and they’ll use it however they want. We can’t attack them head-on again, because they’ll use Peter as a human shield.”

 

“Fuck this.” Tony rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I need to get him out of there.”

 

Terrific. He has one job every time they’re out on a mission: keep the kid safe. If he can’t even manage that, what the hell kind of parent is he going to be?

 

“I hate to be the one to bring this up,” Sam says, looking at Tony like he’s waiting to be punched, “but we are…assuming he’s alive.”

 

Everyone shifts. Wanda looks at the floor.

 

“Nope.” Tony folds his arms and shakes his head. “Not doing this.”

 

Clint gives Sam a warning glare. “No body. If they just wanted to take him out, why move the body?”

 

“S-so they wanted him for something?” Bruce is curled up on the floor in a blanket; although the Hulk had done relatively little damage yesterday, he’d had a hard time calming down once they filled him in about Peter.

 

“Like I said,” Natasha says, “they wanted us to stop coming at them. They needed an advantage because we outgunned them.”

 

“You’re being harsh.”

 

“No, I’m being pragmatic.”

 

“Well, why not take someone else?” Rhodey says. “Surely some of us are easier targets? I’m including myself there.”

 

“First one they got to?”

 

“Not likely,” Sam says. “Kid moves fast.”

 

“Do we have any idea what they do inside that building?” Steve asks. “Any idea why they’d be interested in Peter?”

 

“No specifics,” Natasha says.

 

Tony swallows and goes to the cockpit.

 

The sun is rising, setting the surrounding forest off in soft yellow. It looks so peaceful, so serene, and yet his heart is still in his throat. It’s been there all night.

 

“Anything, FRIDAY?” he says quietly.

 

_“No luck, Boss. Either they’re still blocking the signal or the tracker’s been destroyed.”_

 

“Fuck.” Tony swipes the nearest travel mug of coffee. It might have been Barton’s or Wilson’s at some point. It’s his now.

 

Rhodey joins him, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that cold?”

 

“Practically iced.” Tony takes another sip and silently dares Rhodey to challenge him.

 

“Look, if they’re going to all that trouble to block the signal, they must not want us to find him.” Rhodey squeezes his shoulder. “He’s alive, Tony.”

 

“Yeah?” Tony stares out at the trees. “So where is he?” _Where are you, kid?_

 

* * *

 

 

Cold. Dark.

 

Why is he here?

 

_“Mr Stark? Hello? Can anyone hear me?”_

 

Oh. Yeah.

 

_“I can’t hear you, I don’t know what’s happening. If you can hear me, can you let me know?”_

_Peter slips from his perch and lands in a crouch._

_“Karen?”_

_She doesn’t respond._

_“Can anyone hear me?” Now he starts to panic. “Please, please, can someone say something?”_

_There’s a crackle of static, but no comforting voice on the other end._

_“Oh, crap. Um, Mr Stark? I’m kinda freaking out here-“_

_His senses, which had been humming slightly all day, suddenly spiked and sent him scrambling up the nearest tree. Voices, getting closer, but none that he knows._

_“I think someone’s coming, I can’t-“ He breaks off as footsteps trample right beneath his hiding place._

_“We know you’re here, Spider!”_

_“There’s someone here. I’m sorry.” He needs them to know that. “Mr Stark, I’m sorry.”_

_“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” There’s the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. Peter knows, after Ben, he’ll never forget it. “Or we’ll get bored and go after one of your teammates who aren’t as sturdy as you.”_

_Normally, that would scare Peter, but these bad guys seem amateur at best._

_“We have a very powerful EMP that is extremely capable of disabling any suits or wing rigs that happen to be flying overhead right now. Get down here, and we won’t use it.”_

_Everyone on the team knows what happens when an Iron Man suit fails._

_Peter closes his eyes and drops to the ground again. “Why haven’t you already?”_

_There are three men waiting for him. None of them look surprised at his sudden appearance._

_“Because, little spider,” one says, “we don’t care about the Avengers.”_

_Another voice sounds beside his ear. “We only care about you.”_

_Pain. Black._

 

“Hello?” Peter’s voice cracks and he coughs. “Anyone? Why am I here?”

 

The light outside clicks on again. “Do you really want to know?”

 

“Why do you think I asked?”

 

“You’re unique, Spider. Steve Rogers is outdated, World War Two science. The Witch cannot be replicated without the Mind Stone.” Okay. They know a lot. “You? You’re the future of human enhancement. Animal DNA spliced with human – you’re a scientific marvel. I want to know everything about you.”

 

“I’m a Hufflepuff, and I like the Star Wars movies and long walks through the city. I’m just looking for the right person to do it with.”

 

“Very funny.”

 

“Glad you think so. Mind turning the heating up?”

 

“Ah-ah. Did you know spiders can’t thermoregulate?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, consider this your first test.” The light disappears.

 

Peter shivers.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay.” Tony blows up the hologram he’s been staring at for the past ten minutes and carries it over to the rest of the team. “FRIDAY managed to get a full scan of the building yesterday. Here’re the schematics.”

 

“Lots of creepy, suspicious underground tunnels,” Wanda notes.

 

“And therefore lots of hiding places,” Thor says. “The vaults below Old Asgard seemed endless sometimes.”

 

“Exactly.” Tony rubs his hands together. It feels so good to finally be doing something.

 

“We’re going to have to be cleverer this time.” Natasha traces a route with one finger. “Remember-“

 

“They have something we need. Yes, I know.”

 

She glares at him, unimpressed. “You’re going to need to keep your head here, Stark.”

 

“I will.”

 

“One false move…”

 

“I _know_ , Romanoff.” God, does he know. They’re talking about his kid like a tactical advantage.

 

“Just making sure.” She’s still staring at him. “This isn’t like last time, okay? It’ll be a walk in the park compared to that.”

 

Tony clenches his left fist reflexively. A phantom pain shoots up his arm.

 

Steve clears his throat. “Like Natasha said, we’re going to need to be stealthy, so Bruce…”

 

“Yeah, no – no problem. I’ll set up some medical supplies here, just in – just in case.”

 

Tony inhales and tries to pretend he’s not panicking. Okay, maybe he is a little, but he’d be the same if it was anyone else on the team, right?

 

Wrong.

 

“Tony, what ways in can you see?”

 

“Other than the obvious?” Tony grabs the distraction with both hands and zooms in on a tunnel that seems to come out somewhere in the forest. “I’m guessing this is where they disappeared into yesterday while we were running around like headless chickens.”

 

“That could work,” Clint says. “It’s always easier to fight your way out than in.”

 

“We ready?” Steve stands, rolling his shoulders.

 

“Always.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter is _so freaking cold_.

 

His knees are pulled tightly into his chest, his arms hugging them tightly, and he’s still shivering.

 

“Please,” he calls, watching the gap under the door for the light to come on. “You got me, I’m cold.”

 

There’s a pause before the light comes on. “Not cold enough.”

 

“Jeez, dude. W-what do you want me to do?”

 

“I want to see how far you can go. See if you pass out, stop shivering, or if you hibernate like spiders do.” The voice sends ice sliding down Peter’s spine, or maybe he’s just cold. He’s being picked apart like a lab rat. “As soon as your friends give up, we’ll find somewhere else to put you. Somewhere more…scientific.”

 

“Ugh.” A shudder wracks Peter’s whole body.

 

“Look on the bright side, Spider. What we learn from you is going to change the world.”

 

* * *

 

 

Tony thinks the fight goes okay. He doesn’t register much of it past _block-punch-kick-shoot-get to my kid._

 

They break out of the tunnel and right into the middle of the building, causing instant panic. Agents start swarming in all directions like ants, and the team lays into them with a relish that Tony had thought they all reserved for Thanos.

 

“FRIDAY, find Peter.” He lands beside a heavy-looking door and kicks it open. A dark staircase comes into view. “FRIDAY? This isn’t on the scans.”

 

_“As far as I’m concerned, Boss, it doesn’t exist.”_

 

“Hm.” Tony starts to walk down the steps. “So if there was a place to hide something you don’t want being found…”

 

_“This would be it.”_

 

“Great.” The minute he steps through the door, his comms go silent. “And that’s even better.”

 

_“All signals seem to be blocked.”_

 

“Wow, really? Brand new information, thank you.”

 

The bottom of the staircase stretches out into a long dark corridor. Tony’s display on his HUD clocks the temperature dropping by at least ten degrees.

 

“Whoo, I think we found the freezer, girl.”

 

_“Detecting one life sign.”_

 

“What?” It’s too cold down here for a human to survive for long, never mind Peter. “That’s not funny. Is he down here?”

 

_“I believe so.”_

 

It’s too big for Tony to search by himself; the corridor is lined with doors and other corridors branching off from it. He doesn’t have time. _Peter_ doesn’t have time.

 

His suits folds away into its unit. Tony cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Peter? Where are you?”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter wakes up. Maybe he wasn’t asleep. Who knows?

 

Something’s banging nearby. It sounds vaguely familiar.

 

He’s cold. He thinks he stopped shivering a while ago, but he’s not sure. He keeps breathing faster and faster and he can’t slow it down.

 

“Peter? Where are you?”

 

He yawns. He just wants to sleep.

 

“Kid?”

 

The light outside the door flicks on and Peter flinches. That’s bad, isn’t it? The light means the voice, and the voice is scary.

 

The door opens, spilling light into the room.

 

“Peter!”

 

Something touches his face, almost burning hot against his cold cheeks.

 

“You’re okay,” they say, “you’ll be fine, kid.”

 

Peter opens his eyes. He’s not sure when he closed them.

 

_“Boss, I’m detecting the early signs of hypothermia. You need to get him somewhere warmer.”_

 

“So, anywhere else but here?”

 

Something clicks and Peter’s hands are free.

 

“Just stay awake for me,” the person says. “Just a little longer, Pete.”

 

Okay…

 

“Mr Stark…?”

 

“That’s me.” Suddenly, Peter’s flying, leaving the ground but being held completely securely. The thing is warm and he burrows into it, hiding his face in something soft. “Yeah, warm yourself up.”

 

Okay, the warm thing is Mr Stark.

 

He smells different to how he does normally, earth and trees mixed with oil and the scent of his workshop. He still smells like home.

 

“I’ve got you,” Mr Stark whispers, “I’ve got you.”

 

Peter drifts.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony just sits for a moment, letting Peter burrow further into his chest. The kid’s nose brushes his neck, ice-cold, and Tony sucks in a breath.

 

Right. Early stages of hypothermia. Sleepy kid.

 

“Going up,” he murmurs, sliding his free arm under Peter’s knees, and rises to his feet. He only staggers once. “Huh. Maybe I should join in on Cap’s gym sessions sometimes.”

 

_“I think that would be advisable, Boss.”_

 

“Thank you, FRIDAY.”

 

_“I’m here all week, Boss.”_

 

Tony laughs in spite of himself, starting to walk back down the corridor. “I don’t doubt it.”

 

Peter makes a whine in the back of his throat, the same one he makes every time he’s sleeping and wants someone to be quiet.

 

So Tony can speak sleepy teenager now, apparently. Pepper’s going to be thrilled.

 

“No, nuh-uh. No sleeping, kid, not yet.”

 

“Tired.”

 

“Nope, you’re tired because you’re cold.” They make it up the flight of stairs, somehow. “Ooh, yeah, yikes. Definitely hitting the gym when we get back.”

 

Peter lets out a soft little snort. His face is white but he’s smiling, and something funny happens in Tony’s chest.

 

“You laughing at me?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“What’s a man gotta do to get some respect around here?” Tony relaxes. He has Peter; everything’s fine.

 

He reaches the door again and his comms come back online.

 

_“-Stark, answer us!”_

_“-not showing up on any scans-“_

_“-fucking idiot-“_

 

 _“Got him!”_ Rhodey lands in front of Tony, his helmet folding back into the suit. “And he’s got Peter.”

 

“Found their secret hidey-hole,” Tony says, “invisible to scanners.”

 

“Explains a lot.”

 

“Mm. We all good here?”

 

 _“All locked down,”_ Natasha says, like it’s any other day, any other mission. _“They were some scientific research group obsessed with human enhancement. I’m afraid all their research has mysteriously vanished without a trace.”_

 

“Tragic.” Tony shifts Peter so he’s holding him a little more securely and catches Rhodey smiling at him. “What?”

 

The smirk widens. “Nothing. Let’s just get you and the kid back to the jet.”

 

“Right. Ready to go home, Pete?”

 

“Uh-huh.” Peter buries his cold face back into Tony’s chest, muttering something else.

 

“What? Kid?”

 

“I got it,” Rhodey says, loud enough for the rest of the team to glance over. “He said ‘thanks, Dad’.”

 

“Rhodey!”

 

Rhodey holds his hands up as everyone else grins. “That’s what he said!”

 

“You’re dead, honey!” He hates them, he hates them all so much.

 

Peter huffs out a laugh and loosely grips the front of Tony’s shirt.

 

Okay. Maybe he doesn’t hate _everyone_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! tomorrow is major character death, so. you know.


	5. major character death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything in Tony is screaming to run. This, right in front of him, is the culmination of his every nightmare from the last six years. He wasn’t lying when he’d told Strange that Thanos had been inside his head for that long; he just never had a name for him.
> 
> Thanos is the worst thing he’s ever come up against. All his work, his building, his creating, driving away his team because they didn’t understand what he knew – all of it might be for nothing. He might still lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want you all to know that i cried writing this chapter.
> 
> it's just gone midnight here but shh, timezones are a thing. it's still the 5th for some of you.
> 
> warnings for blood and standard violence.

Everything in Tony is screaming to run. This, right in front of him, is the culmination of his every nightmare from the last six years. He wasn’t lying when he’d told Strange that Thanos had been inside his head for that long; he just never had a name for him.

 

He does now.

 

“Tony Stark.”

 

“You know me?” Tony draws himself up to his full, not very impressive height. Strange steps forward to join him, wielding glowing orange circles.

 

“I do.” There’s something that seems familiar in Thanos’s condescending tone, and as he tilts his head like he’s watching a toddler throw a tantrum, it hits Tony.

 

He’s so like Obadiah, and it’s terrifying.

 

Thanos sees it in his face. “You know you can’t win. Give me the Stone.”

 

“It’s not my decision, and even if it was, I can’t let you. No one should have that much power.”

 

Some distant part of him expects Thanos to argue, to manipulate, to persuade, to start his Evil Monologue that shows how sure he is of his own purpose while emphasising how unhinged he really is.

 

None of that happens.

 

Thanos smiles at them like they’re children, and then he lunges.

 

The fight is short, frighteningly so. Quill and his idiots break like waves hitting a solid wall. Thanos flings them away easily and they don’t get back up.

 

Strange and Peter are quickly dispatched as well, bowled over in an instant.

 

Tony fights, raising his shield against a blast of purple light. He barely survives it.

 

Thanos is the worst thing he’s ever come up against. All his work, his building, his creating, driving away his team because they didn’t understand what he knew – all of it might be for nothing. He might still lose.

 

“I don’t want to fight you, Stark.” Thanos bats him aside. “Just give me the Stone.”

 

“Not happening.” Tony moves quicker than he ever thought he could, pulling a dagger out of his nanites and springs at Thanos.

 

Thanos is faster.

 

He grabs the dagger and snaps it off in one smooth movement, twisting his hand and thrusting it straight through Tony’s side.

 

 _Shit_ , Tony thinks, _that_ hurts.

 

He stares at it blankly, almost detached. There’s a knife sticking out of his stomach. Surely he should be panicking.

 

“That’s unfortunate,” Thanos says, and yanks it out.

 

A hysterical laugh bubbles up in Tony’s throat. He wipes his mouth and discovers it was blood.

 

Now he panics.

 

He sinks to the ground, struggling for breath. Maybe it’s shock; maybe it’s a punctured diaphragm.

 

“I’ll spare his life if you give me the Stone,” Thanos calls.

 

Strange doesn’t answer. Tony gasps hoarsely.

 

“I’ll ask again, wizard.” Thanos weighs the blade in one hand. “Give me the Stone.”

 

“Mr Stark!”

 

A flash of red and blue flies across Tony’s vision, glinting in the orange light. Thanos stumbles back, taken by surprise, and Peter shoots a web to swing away again.

 

It happens in slow motion.

 

Thanos recovers quickly and reaches his arm out, one huge fist closing around Peter’s ankle. He pulls. Peter slams into the ground.

 

“Stop it!” Tony cries, but he can’t get out more than a croak. Peter’s a kid. He shouldn’t even be here. “Please, stop.”

 

Thanos rolls Peter over and plants a foot on his chest. “The little insect tried to save Stark.” He shifts, and Tony is suddenly painfully reminded of the broken-off dagger in his right hand.

 

“Stop!”

 

“You want me to stop?” Thanos pushes down on Peter’s torso. “I want the Stone.”

 

Peter coughs and splutters, his breaths coming out pained and choppy, and tries to push Thanos’s foot off him.

 

“Please.” Tony spits the word out along with a stringy globule of blood. “Strange, please.”

 

“I can’t, Stark, I’m sorry.”

 

“That’s a shame.” Thanos leans down and caresses Peter’s head before tightening his grip. Nanites start to flake away, leaving Peter’s face completely exposed. “You’re a brave little fighter, child.”

 

“Mr Stark,” Peter chokes out.

 

His voice carves something out deep in Tony’s chest. He wants to throw himself towards Thanos, rip him away from Peter with everything he has, but he can barely pull in enough oxygen to stay conscious.

 

Peter turns his head to meet Tony’s gaze, his eyes wide.

 

“Last chance, wizard.”

 

“You can’t have the Stone.” Strange isn’t moving. Why isn’t he moving?

 

Tony knows what’s going to happen before it does, but he can’t do a thing as Thanos raises the dagger and plunges it into Peter’s chest.

 

He thinks he screams, but he can’t hear a thing over the sudden ringing in his ears.

 

Peter opens his mouth, weakly gasping out something that gets lost in the blood trickling from his lips.

 

Thanos pulls back, sliding the blade out with a sickening _snick_ noise. Peter goes limp.

 

Ignoring the pain in his stomach, Tony starts to crawl across the dry ground towards him. Thanos and Strange fade away; all he can see is Peter.

 

_Peter, Peter, Peter…_

 

“Hey,” he gasps, “hey, Pete, look at me.”

 

Peter turns his head. That’s good. There’s still hope.

 

“Okay.” Tony finally reaches him, pulling Peter’s head into his lap. “Okay, just breathe. You’re okay.”

 

This isn’t like the other times. This isn’t Tony telling the kid he’s going to catch him and knowing it’s true. This time, he’s lying.

 

He’s lying because Peter is _dying_.

 

It washes over Tony like a bucket of ice water, but all he can do is sit. Peter’s going to die, and he can’t do anything about it.

 

In all his nightmares, he never imagined this. He couldn’t.

 

Because Peter is a kid.

 

Tony sent him home. He fucking sent him home and he still managed to end up in danger. What was the point of all the protocols, all the suits, if he couldn’t keep Peter safe when it mattered? What was the point of Tony?

 

“Look at me,” Tony says, lifting Peter’s chin so their eyes meet. “Don’t look at it. You’re okay.”

 

“Mr Stark…” More blood comes out than actual words.

 

“No, no, no no no, don’t talk, kid.”

 

_“Tony.”_

 

He isn’t sure where Strange’s voice comes from. It echoes oddly around the strange orange world, sounding inside Tony’s head. Maybe he imagined it.

 

_“There was no other way.”_

 

Peter lets out a pained little wheeze, one hand twitching towards his chest. Tony can’t look at it. It’s too awful. “Hurts…”

 

“I know, I know, kid, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

 

“Mr Stark…’M sorry…”

 

“No.” Tony shakes his head. “No, Peter, look at me. Stay awake, stay awake. Peter? _Peter_!”

 

All of Tony’s begging is for nothing. Peter’s eyes slip closed.

 

* * *

 

Tony wakes up with a gasp.

 

He flounders for a moment, confused at the soft material clenched in his fists. He was expecting red dirt.

 

Something moves beside him and he jerks away so violently he rolls out of bed and hits the floor.

 

Bed. Bedroom. Compound. Pepper squinting at him through tired eyes.

 

She looks worried, but Tony can only think of one thing. “Peter?”

 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Pepper whispers. She sits up with a soft grunt of effort, one hand cradling her stomach. “Come back to bed. It’s okay.”

 

“Peter,” Tony insists.

 

“Peter’s fine, he’s right down the hall-“

 

“I need to – I need-“ Tony doesn’t finish his explanation. He wrenches the door open and stumbles down the corridor to Peter’s room.

 

Knocking doesn’t even occur to him. He just throws Peter’s door open, almost tripping over his own feet as he crosses to the bed.

 

There’s a moment when Tony hesitates, not wanting to disturb him. Peter looks peaceful and it’s almost enough to chase the last remnants of the nightmare from his mind. Almost.

 

Peter stirs, rubbing his arm across his face, and the moment is gone.

 

“Mmmph.” The arm flops across his eyes. “Mr Stark?”

 

“Just me, kid. Sorry.”

 

“Wha’re you doin’?” Peter slides his arm away and looks up at Tony.

 

 _Alive_. He’s alive. Peter’s staying over for the weekend. He’s here, sleepy and confused and very much alive.

 

And staring at Tony, head tilted in a question. “Are you okay?”

 

Tony opens his mouth and closes it again. “Just…checking up on you.”

 

“‘M’all good.” Peter sits up and shuffles across his bed, a clear invitation. “Look, I’ve moved the leg. You can sit down.”

 

Tony does. This kid is way too perceptive for his age. It’s not his job to parent Tony, but who else is going to understand? “I had a bad dream.”

 

“Oh.” Peter’s quiet for a moment. “About…?”

 

“No. But close. Pretty damn close.” Tony twists his hands into Peter’s duvet.

 

“I’m okay,” Peter says, less flippant than before. “You saved me.”

 

“Yeah, I did, but this dream-“

 

“Was a dream.” Peter untangles himself from his blankets and crawls over to sit next to Tony. “I’m okay.”

 

Tony exhales and runs his hands across his face. Something rests on his shoulder, and he turns to see that it’s Peter’s head.

 

“I’m okay,” Peter whispers again, “I’m okay.”

 

Tony is suddenly struck with the memory of the day they’d fixed everything; of watching figures collapse through a portal in the distance; of running; of pulling Peter into his arms and cradling him like he was years younger than he actually was; of whispering, “You’re okay,” over and over again.

 

Peter doesn’t want to hear about it, he realises, and he doesn’t particularly want to talk about it. It was nothing compared to the nightmares he used to have, when he’d stumble down the corridor to an empty bedroom and the memory of ash clinging to his fingers.

 

Not this time. He tore the universe apart and put it back together. He killed Thanos. He saved Peter. He didn’t let him down. This time he can pull Peter closer against him and thread shaking fingers into his hair.

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, “you’re okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DIDN'T DO IT OKAY DON'T HATE ME


	6. torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS! this chapter was a monster and i couldn't figure out how to wrap it up, so i thought i'd better just end it before it ended me. now i'm going to sleep for eighteen hours.
> 
> i just need to say thank you all so so much for your kudos and comments on this, they mean the world. i hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> warnings for violence and waterboarding.

“I don’t – _shit_!”

 

Tony tries to peel open his eyes. His head feels like a heavy metal band has been practicing in it all night, and he’s pretty sure his breakfast is going to make a glorious reappearance sometime soon.

 

What breakfast? What was he doing? Did he have a party last night? Did Thor break out his Asgardian liquor? He wouldn’t put it past Valkyrie to spike everyone’s drinks, except that would have meant less for her…

 

Where _is_ he?

 

“Stark’s waking up.”

 

“Get him to join the fun.”

 

“Hey.” A hand slaps his cheek before pinching it roughly. “Wakey-wakey.”

 

“Get off him, asshole.”

 

Oh, no. He knows that voice.

 

“Your turn to be quiet, kid. Shut it.”

 

“We don’t know anything, I already told-“ Peter cuts off with a yelp of pain.

 

That’s enough to pull Tony out of his stupor. No one touches Peter.

 

“Huh, that got him up fast.” The man standing in front of him grins. “This is going to work just fine.”

 

Tony squints. He’s sitting on a hard metal chair, his hands cuffed behind him, in a dark room. The man moves and Tony’s eyes meet Peter’s.

 

“Mr Stark,” Peter says cheerfully, like they’re not both handcuffed to chairs with no idea where they are or what’s happening. “Hey!”

 

“Hey yourself, kid.” Tony closes his eyes. “Ugh…what happened?”

 

“We went out for lunch, remember? They grabbed us in the parking lot.” Peter sighs. “I was really looking forward to it, as well.”

 

“Yeah, okay. This is real sweet, but let’s get on with it.” A new voice sounds from behind Tony. Peter frowns at the man like he recognises him, but isn’t sure where from. “All you gotta do is tell me what I want to know and leave me to my business, and you and your intern can walk out of here without a problem.”

 

Peter glances at Tony. There’s a frightening resignation in his eyes. “I already told your friends, man. We can’t help you.”

 

“Really? How about I speak to your manager?” The man stalks around Tony’s chair and bends down so he’s at eye level. His face is horribly scarred on one side, and he has a scorpion tattoo on his neck. “Looks gruesome, doesn’t it, Stark? Wanna know how I got them?”

 

“I think I’m good, Joker,” Tony says, “but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

 

“I was on the ferry that day with Adrian Toomes.”

 

Peter inhales shakily, a tiny noise that the other men don’t pick up, but Tony knows him too well.

 

“If you were dancing with Toomes, I’d say you got what you deserved,” Tony says flatly.

 

“You think I deserved all this and jail time? Nah. Don’t worry, though, Stark. Like I told Toomes, there’s only one person I blame for this: that interfering little bastard in tights and a leotard.”

 

Tony understands. He understands the look on Peter’s face. He understands why Peter hasn’t just snapped the cuffs clean off. He understands they aren’t getting out of here anytime soon.

 

“I want you to give me Spider-Man.”

 

“That’s – I can’t do that-“

 

“Really?” The man stalks across the room and hovers behind Peter’s chair. “Is Spider-Man more important to you than your intern?”

 

“That’s not what I’m _saying_ – are you seriously threatening a kid?”

 

“I’m willing to accept he doesn’t know anything,” the man – Tony’s starting to call him the Scorpion in his head – says, “but you, Stark – you have to know something about Spider-Man.”

 

“I don’t,” Tony says. “I don’t know who he is or what he looks like. We have a deal, and his privacy was part of that. I can’t help you.”

 

“Hmm.” Scorpion reaches out and twists a strand of Peter’s hair around his finger. Peter goes very still. “Y’know, I asked Adrian Toomes the same question. Word was going around that he knew who the Spider-Man was. He did exactly what you just did.” He grabs a fistful of Peter’s hair and yanks on it. “He looked me in the face and he fucking lied!”

 

Peter hisses through his teeth as his head is forced up, breaking his eye contact with Tony.

 

“Are you really going to make me do this?”

 

“Do what?” Tony yanks on the cuffs again and again, but they don’t budge. “Get off him. He’s a _kid_.”

 

“You really expect me to believe that Spider-Man hangs around you for a year, goes to space with you, dies, comes back to life, and you know nothing about him?”

 

“I don’t know where you’re getting your information.” Tony starts talking faster; he has to say something, anything, to keep their attention away from Peter. “I can’t help you find Spider-Man, and my intern has nothing to do with this. Let us go.”

 

“Really doesn’t like us touching the kid, does he?”

 

“You mean like this?” The guy who’d woken Tony up grips Peter’s chin and tilts his head back even further. “Or this?” He drives a fist into Peter’s stomach.

 

“Hey!” Tony snarls over Peter’s pained wheeze. “I said hands _off_.”

 

“Spider-Man.”

 

“I can’t-“

 

The next punch is to Peter’s face.

 

Both he and Tony are dead silent for a second. Peter looks shell-shocked, and Tony is seething at the fact they just hit his kid in the fucking face.

 

“Real big of you, assholes,” he snaps. “Beating up a kid while he’s tied to a chair? Hope you’re proud of yourselves.”

 

“I want Spider-Man, Stark.”

 

“I just told you-“

 

This time it’s the Scorpion who pulls his arm back and lets fly, catching Peter in the mouth. Blood starts to trickle down his chin, but he doesn’t make a sound, raising his head to glare at the men.

 

“Fucking stop it!“

 

Scorpion huffs. “Just tell me where to find Spider-Man. A name, an address, a job, something. You and the kid can just walk out of here and forget this happened. I can make that clown pay for what he did to me. Everyone’s happy. Well, everyone except Spider-Man.” He gives Tony a challenging glare. “Still no? Well…”

 

“No, _wait_ -“

 

This time Peter can’t hold back his cry of pain.

 

* * *

 

It seems like forever before they finally step away. Tony’s spat out every swear word he knows three times over, but they didn’t look at him once.

 

There’s something roaring in his chest, some primal urge to protect, but he can’t even move. He’s fucking useless, just like he always is, just like-

 

“Remembered anything you’d like to tell me?”

 

Peter rests his head back, breathing very slowly and carefully. Tony glares.

 

“I’ll leave you to think about it,” Scorpion says, “and when I get back, you better have another answer for me.”

 

They walk out and slam the door; Peter flinches at the noise.

 

“Kid?” Tony whispers. “You okay?”

 

What a stupid fucking question.

 

“Mm-hm.” Peter lifts his head. His lip is split and trickling blood, and there are red marks along his cheeks and jaw. “They’re not messing around.”

 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

 

“At least they’re hitting me and not you.”

 

 _No, that should be the other way around, kid_. Tony jerks his head towards the door. “Can they hear us?”

 

Peter listens for a second. “No one’s outside.”

 

“Okay. These guys: you know them?”

 

“Two of them. The head guy is Mac Gargan; I saw him on the ferry. The guy who woke you up is called the Shocker. Worked for the Vulture. Total dick. Threw a bus at me.”

 

Tony blinks. “Okay, we’re talking about _that_ once we get out of here. Speaking of which: any bright ideas?” Peter opens his mouth and Tony continues, “That don’t involve you outing yourself?”

 

Peter shuts his mouth.

 

“Yeah, that’s what-“

 

“I got to my watch.”

 

“What?”

 

“When they grabbed us and knocked us out. I managed to press the panic button, but then they took our phones and stuff. The signal will probably just lead straight to the parking lot. Sorry.”

 

“No, that’s good,” Tony says, a grin spreading across his face. “That’s brilliant, kid. Well done.”

 

“Really?” Peter instantly perks up; Tony wants to hug him right there and then, but he can’t because he’s handcuffed to this stupid fucking chair.

 

“You’ll give whoever picked up the signal somewhere to start. At least one of us is useful in a crisis, hm?”

 

“At least you made me wear the watch.”

 

“True. How’s your face now?”

 

Peter’s split lip is already closing over, and he keeps running his tongue over it like he knows. “Healing. They’re gonna figure it out.”

 

“Don’t say a word. You sent the signal. Give the others some time to find us. Knowing your aunt, she’ll break us out herself.”

 

Peter grins. “True.”

 

 _Distraction successful_. Glancing at the door, Tony sighs. “I’m really sorry, kid.”

 

Peter tilts his head. “This is your fault…how?”

 

 _Anyone that gets close to me gets pulled into the line of fire_. “Danger by proximity.”

 

“Oh, no, you’re right,” Peter drawls. “Let me just go back to that wonderful, safer time before Mr Stark showed up with stupid, dangerous things like a better, safer suit and a watch with a built-in panic button.”

 

“That’s enough of your cheek.”

 

“Admit I’m right.”

 

“I don’t want you disrespecting me like that around your younger sibling when they arrive; you’ll set a bad example.”

 

“You know I’m right.”

 

Tony tries to stop the smile quirking his lips and fails miserably.

 

“You laughed! I’m not in trouble anymore.”

 

“You’re the worst, Parker.”

 

“I know.” But Peter’s laughing too.

 

For a moment, it’s almost like they did make it to lunch, sitting across from each other and laughing about something stupid: Tony pretending to be stern; Peter snorting when he sees right through his façade; safe instead of tied up in a shitty basement.

 

Peter tenses up, his smile dropping, and glances towards the door. Tony nods.

 

The door flies open and Gargan strides back in. “Time’s up, Stark. Hope that jogged your memory.”

 

“I don’t know how much simpler I can put this,” Tony says slowly. “I can’t help you.”

 

“Mm, no.” Gargan gives him a cold smile. “Not the answer I need, but honestly, I was kind of hoping you’d say that. Bring it in, boys.”

 

Peter’s ‘Shocker’ and two other men enter the cell, dragging and pushing a huge container between them. Judging by the grunts of effort, it’s heavy.

 

“So, Stark, Afghanistan? How was it for you?”

 

Tony narrows his eyes. “Pretty shit.” He doesn’t like this sudden left turn into some weird, twisted version of a therapy session, but as long as it keeps the attention on him and off Peter, he’s going to roll with it.

 

“You know, I had a lot of time in jail,” Gargan says, like they’re suddenly fucking buddies or something, “and I did a lot of reading. Lots of stuff out there about terrorist groups. The Ten Rings – they’re the ones who captured you, right?”

 

Peter is staring at him, wide-eyed, over the tank in the middle of the cell. Tony suddenly knows, with numb certainty, exactly what’s in it.

 

“You got a point, Scarface?”

 

“Apparently, they had a favourite way to torture their prisoners.” Gargan watches Tony’s face, his grin widening. “Come on, Stark. Tell the kid about it.”

 

Tony opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

 

He remembers everything. They never let him pass out, just brought him to the brink over and over, made his lungs scream and his throat burn as he tried to suck in air that didn’t exist.

 

“-the fuck up! You’re freaking him out!”

 

Peter. He’s not there. He’s here, and Peter needs him.

 

“Mr Stark? Mr Stark, it’s okay.”

 

He blinks, focusing on Peter’s face across the room.

 

“You’re okay,” Peter says firmly.

 

“Waterboarding.” Tony’s gaze snaps back to Gargan, who’s watching them both with amusement. “I think Stark can tell you, kid: it’s not fun.”

 

“Fucking asshole,” Peter spits.

 

Even Tony’s eyebrows shoot up at that one.

 

“Oh! You hear that?” Gargan lets out a short laugh before he lunges and grabs a handful of Peter’s hair. “You speak to me like that again, you brat, and I’ll do a lot worse. Got it?”

 

Peter just glares.

 

“You’re quiet, Stark. Thought you didn’t like us touching the kid?”

 

Tony tries to breathe. They’re going to drown him again and he can’t, he _can’t do it_ , but he can’t give up Peter, he’d rather die than do that but _this_ , this is going to feel like dying-

 

“Yeah, you remember how it feels? Just focus on that feeling for a moment, and then tell me something about Spider-Man. Anything.”

 

“I don’t know anything,” Tony forces out. “How many more times-?”

 

“Uh-oh, wrong answer. You _do_ remember what it’s like, Stark, don’t you?”

 

_This is for Peter, this is for Peter-_

 

“Last chance to answer my question. Who is Spider-Man, and where can I find him?”

 

“That’s two questions.”

 

“All right, you fucking comedian.” Gargan nods to his men. “Let’s go.”

 

Two of them start walking and Tony braces himself, but they don’t move towards him. They walk towards Peter.

 

“No.” It comes out barely louder than a whisper, but they don’t stop and his voice rises. “No, no, no, don’t touch him!”

 

Not this. Anything but this.

 

They uncuff Peter from the chair and drag him over to the tank, forcing him to his knees. He struggles, but barely. Spider-Man could overpower everyone in this room without breaking a sweat; Peter has to be careful.

 

“No, you’re not serious? He’s a kid, for fuck’s sake, leave him out of this.” Tony’s babbling now, words spilling out faster and faster in his desperation. “Don’t do this, please, I swear I don’t know anything, please.”

 

Gargan watches him, his face impassive, and moves so he’s standing behind Peter.

 

“No, no, don’t, _don’t_ -“

 

Peter stares into the tub and swallows.

 

“If I knew anything, I’d tell you.”

 

There’s no way out of this that leaves Peter unscathed, and that terrifies Tony most of all.

 

“Remember how it felt,” Gargan says again, and then he forces Peter’s head down.

 

Peter struggles at first, just like Tony remembers doing, pushing up against the side of the tub. His head breaks the surface for a second and he sucks in a rattling breath that makes Tony’s chest hurt before another man steps forward and pushes him back down.

 

What makes it so much worse is Tony can map out each stage as it happens: the initial resolve to hold his breath as long as possible; the panicked struggling when he realises he can’t do it much longer; growing weaker while his lungs scream for air; the jerk when his body takes over and sucks in water; the thrashing when his lungs start to burn in a whole different way; starting to go limp again as his brain begins to shut down.

 

“Stop it, stop it, let him up, he can’t breathe, stopitstopitstopit-“ Tony isn’t even sure he’s saying words anymore, just an unintelligible stream of pleas.

 

Gargan opens his mouth to speak, but the cell door flies open, slamming against the wall, and War Machine storms in.

 

Tony almost faints with relief.

 

Rhodey fires repulsor blasts at the men around the room and they drop like stones. Someone grabs Tony’s cuffs and he flinches.

 

“Just me, Tony.”

 

“Get me the hell out of here, Rogers.”

 

Gargan had let go of Peter when he’d slumped to the floor, but Peter’s still face down in the tub. He isn’t moving.

 

Steve snaps the cuffs open and Tony lunges across the room, pulling Peter’s head up. “Pete? Peter!” He’s terrifyingly limp.

 

“Here.” Steve lays Peter on his back and starts pressing on his chest. “Come on, kid.”

 

Peter jerks. Steve rolls him over and water comes spilling out of his mouth.

 

“Take him.” Steve seems to understand Tony’s silent, urgent need to hold Peter. “Make sure he gets it all up.”

 

Now he’s here, with the kid alive and breathing and mostly unharmed in his arms, Tony’s icy terror melts into rage. “What the _fuck_ took you so long?”

 

Steve blinks and recoils. “Tony, we had nothing to go on except Peter’s beacon, and you were long gone by the time we found it. We came as quick as we could.”

 

“Not quick enough.” Peter heaves up more water and Tony turns back to him. “You’re okay now, you’re okay…”

 

Rhodey pulls Steve away, waiting until they’re almost out of earshot to start talking. Snippets of the conversation float back to Tony as he rubs Peter’s back.

 

“Look, don’t take it personally…”

 

“…know he’s just worried about the kid…”

 

“…kidnapped in Afghanistan…waterboarding…probably more than once…”

 

“…had no idea…”

 

“…just worried about Peter, Rogers…”

 

“Okay,” Peter croaks, resting his forehead on Tony’s legs, “that sucked ass. Zero stars. Bad review on TripAdvisor.”

 

Tony lets out a high, shaky laugh, one that quite possibly borders on hysteria. “Christ.”

 

“Ugh.” Peter sits up and wipes his mouth. “They all gone?”

 

Tony glances at Gargan’s body, slumped beside the tub. “Yeah.”

 

Peter closes his eyes and nods. A shudder runs through his whole body.

 

Tony doesn’t hesitate, just clasping the back of Peter’s neck and pulling him close to rest their foreheads together. Water trickles down their faces, dripping from Peter’s hair.

 

“That _sucked_ ,” Peter says again, and beneath the offhand words, Tony can hear the same thread of terror that’s still lingering in his own chest.

 

“Yeah,” he says, because that’s all he can say. Yeah, I know what it’s like. Yeah, I hated watching that. Yeah.

 

Peter looks at him, really looks at him. He already knows Tony better than Tony allows almost anyone to know him, simply because he didn’t ask. He just waltzed right in to Tony’s life the same way Rhodey, Pepper and Happy had: unapologetically and without waiting for permission.

 

But now? Now Peter understands Tony better than anyone in the world, and Tony fucking hates it. He hates that Peter had to go through what he did.

 

“You were so brave,” Tony whispers. _I wasn’t_.

 

Peter closes his eyes. “Can we just…? I want to go. Please?”

 

“Yeah.” They slowly climb to their feet, turning their backs on the bodies and the tub. At some point, they’ll have to deal with this, this brand-new shared trauma of theirs, but not right now.

 

For now, it’s enough for Tony to pull Peter against him and feel him, warm and breathing and alive, and it’s enough for Peter to lean into him and cling to his shirt like the day he was brought back to life. This is enough.


	7. imprisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just wanted to inform you that we detained a vigilante in New York earlier today.”
> 
>  
> 
> Tony’s stomach drops to the floor. He’d thought about it, but hearing it confirmed…it’s all his worst nightmares. “…what? Why?”
> 
>  
> 
> “The so-called ‘Spider-Man’ wasn’t operating under any jurisdiction. I made the call to bring him in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yet another chapter that ended up being longer than i meant it to! oops. i hope you enjoy it anyway.
> 
> warnings for ross being his asshole self

Peter drags himself back to consciousness slowly. He was…

 

Where was he?

 

He’d been on patrol, right? Yes, he’d said goodbye to May because he’s staying with Mr Stark tonight. It’s one of his first since…everything, and it had been going pretty well. He’d rescued a cat, stopped a mugging, and then…

 

He’d heard a woman scream, so he’d jumped into an alley behind a row of stores, and something had smacked into the back of his head hard enough to make his vision blur.

 

That was it.

 

“Okay…” Peter breathes, starting to sit up. It’s only then that he realises that he is sitting up, and he can’t move. “What the hell…?” He’s in a hard chair with thick metal holding his arms in place, as well as his legs. Even his shoulders and forehead are restrained.

 

Okay, time to panic.

 

He tries to pull free but nothing gives, even a little.

 

“I wouldn’t.” The voice comes from nowhere, making him jump. He hadn’t heard anyone approach. “They’re vibranium. All you’ll get is bruises.”

 

Peter’s breathing picks up. He can’t even move his head to look around; he hasn’t felt this defenceless in a long time.

 

“I have to say, you’re younger than I expected.” A man steps into his line of vision. He’s old, his hair and moustache greying, and he’s dressed in a smart suit. “Spider-Man.”

 

His voice sounds strange to Peter, almost like it’s coming through a speaker.

 

 _Oh_. His chair is inside a glass box, sitting in the centre of a concrete room. Maybe, if he can just get free, he can break the glass and make a run for it.

 

“If you’re thinking of breaking out, you won’t get far,” the man says. “I know what you are. This containment unit is specifically designed for people like you. This is quite like the one the Winter Soldier was held in, actually.”

 

“I’m kinda flattered,” Peter says. “You must think I’m dangerous.”

 

“Think? I know you’re dangerous, which is why you’re here.”

 

“Uh-huh, and where is here?”

 

“I wouldn’t worry.” The man adjusts his shirt cuffs, like he’d rather be doing anything but talking to Peter right now. “You won’t be here long. You’re being transferred in a couple of days.”

 

“Where?”

 

“If you must know, the Raft.”

 

_“What?”_

 

“Oh, you know about that?”

 

Peter knows who this is. Secretary Ross: the reason the Accords existed, albeit briefly; the reason the Avengers fractured, or one of them; the reason Peter met Mr Stark.

 

He remembers Mr Stark ranting about the Accords on more than one occasion, and Ross’s name was always said with particular venom.

 

“You can’t do this,” Peter says firmly, although he’s not actually sure where he stands with the law anymore. “It’s against human rights.”

 

“Wrong again. As far as I’m concerned, you’re not human.”

 

Peter inhales involuntarily, because _ouch_.

 

“And soon enough, the law will agree with me, especially since you present a credible threat to public safety.”

 

“Me? You’re kidding, right?”

 

“Get comfortable, Spider-Man. You’re not leaving that chair any time soon.”

 

Peter can’t even turn his head to glare at Ross as he walks away.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony pokes his head into the common room. “Anyone seen the kid?”

 

“Not here,” Clint calls, eyes glued to a laptop. “No, it’s just Stark. You want to see Iron Man? Fine. Tony, wave.”

 

Clint turns to screen to face him and Tony waves at the tiny agents still pretending to be children; he has to admire their dedication. “Promise I won’t keep your dad here too much longer.”

 

 _“Oh, please.”_ Laura dips her head into view. _“By all means, keep him as long as you like.”_

 

Tony laughs at Clint’s outraged face and continues his search for Peter.

 

“FRIDAY, get on Karen. This is later than I like him to be out.” Tony is _working_ on not hovering over Peter every second. It’s a work in progress, but he’s getting there. He’s not watching Karen’s feed the whole time Peter’s out on patrol. Yes, he still has a direct link to the suit if he needs it. What about it?

 

It’s funny how losing someone once makes you determined to never do it again.

 

_“Karen’s last log was recorded three hours ago, Boss. She has not been online since then.”_

 

“I’m sorry?” So maybe he should have been monitoring Peter more closely after all.

 

_“And I have an incoming call from-“_

 

“Decline it! Find Peter.”

 

_“Boss, it’s from Secretary Ross.”_

 

Tony stops. Some horrible intuition starts to crawl to the forefront of his mind. Ross hasn’t shown his face in months, so why now? It’s too much of a coincidence.

 

“Hold it,” he says slowly, “and get the team into the conference room. Don’t answer it until we’re all there.”

 

_“I assume that doesn’t include Mr Lang, Thor or anyone else not in the Compound currently.”_

 

“ _Yes_ , FRIDAY.” He knows the clearly-defined ‘team’ doesn’t exist the same way it used to. Now there’s a guy of variable size out in California, a few Asgardians staying in the land they’d been given in Europe, an irritating wizard in Manhattan and a whole group of self-professed morons joyriding around space and being wrangled by an idiot from Missouri.

 

But never mind that now; there’s a potential crisis unfolding.

 

Tony half-runs to the conference room, meeting Natasha and Wanda at the door.

 

“This better be good, Stark,” Wanda says.

 

“Oh, you’ll _love_ it, Maximoff. Our old friend Secretary Ross is calling.”

 

She bares her teeth and uses her red light to yank out a chair with more force than strictly necessary.

 

“Okay.” Tony takes a seat next to Bruce. “You can, uh, sit this one out if you want, big guy. I know he’s not your favourite person in the world.”

 

“No, no, I want to hear this.”

 

“This should be good,” Sam mutters. Clint smirks.

 

“Accept the call, FRI.”

 

Ross fills the screen, dressed in an immaculate suit. _“Stark. I see you brought backup.”_

 

“No, I brought the team that _you_ tried to break apart.”

 

_“This won’t take long. I just wanted to inform you that we detained a vigilante in New York earlier today.”_

 

Tony’s stomach drops to the floor. He’d thought about it, but hearing it confirmed…it’s all his worst nightmares. “…what? Why?”

 

_“The so-called ‘Spider-Man’ wasn’t operating under any jurisdiction. I made the call to bring him in.”_

 

“You can’t do that. You have no right.”

 

_“I do.”_

 

“The Accords were nullified,” Tony says through his teeth. “They were rescinded before we beat Thanos; they were irrelevant long before that!”

 

 _“Unfortunately, vigilantism is still illegal.”_ Ross looks far too pleased with himself.

 

A thought slams into Tony like a train. “He’s not…on the Raft, is he?”

 

Ross shrugs. _“The enhanced is being temporarily detained in a special facility before being moved offshore.”_

 

Wanda shifts and narrows her eyes. She hasn’t taken her eyes off Ross since the call started.

 

“Just like that?” He can’t let them take Peter, especially not to the Raft. That opens up a whole world of possibilities he doesn’t even want to consider: Ross forcing Peter to fight for him; solitary confinement; experimentation-

 

Oh, look. There he is, considering it. Thanks, Anxiety Brain.

 

_“I can detain unregistered mutants indefinitely without trial-“_

 

“No, you could do that under the Accords, which _no longer exist_.”

 

_“Funny, I remember you signing those documents, Stark.”_

 

“So I could help amend them, because half of it was unacceptable. All of it, as I keep telling you, is no longer law. The UN threw them out.”

 

“I’m sure I could persuade the President to adopt something similar…in the interest of public safety, obviously.”

 

“Oh, of course. You’re just concerned about the _public_.”

 

_“You’re a little defensive there, Stark. Are you jealous that someone else has your favourite toy?”_

 

Tony can’t even think of a response to that. A toy? Peter’s a _kid_.

 

 _“I look forward to seeing how useful Spider-Man can be.”_ And with that, Ross hangs up.

 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

 

Bruce looks up. “Tony, you know what he tried to do to me.”

 

Tony pats Bruce on the shoulder. “Yeah, appreciate your restraint there, big guy.”

 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying – look, if he’s so worried about vigilantes, there are so many others he could have gone after.”

 

“Hell’s Kitchen is full of them,” Tony agrees.

 

“And I bet some of them would be easier to take in than Peter. Come on, Tony. You know Ross; you know what he’s trying to do.”

 

Bruce is right, and Tony hates it. “Of course. That _asshole_. This is a power play. Take in one of the strongest people he can, who just so happens to be close to me.”

 

Natasha nods. “Win-win for Ross: he gets control of an important asset and a way to make Tony cooperate.”

 

“Asshole,” Clint says.

 

“Peter is not an _asset_.”

 

“Not to you,” Natasha says, “but to Ross? Absolutely.”

 

“Not just that,” Rhodey says, “but he wants some version of the Accords put back in US law.”

 

“Which would be bad,” Wanda says drily.

 

“And he’s going to use Peter to do it, one way or the other.” Natasha nods. “Either he proves that Spider-Man poses a threat or he convinces the government that he’s too valuable to be anywhere but under their control.”

 

“Should’ve squashed the dick years ago,” Bruce mutters, prompting a proud smile from Rhodey.

 

“Well, we have to get Peter out,” Tony says, “and we have to do it before they move him. Breaking onto the Raft, _again_ , is going to be just short of impossible.” He’s done the impossible before, of course. He brought the dead back to life. He patched up a broken universe. “They’ve probably upped their software defences since the last time.”

 

“Software?” Sam says. “Steve, did you learn how to hack?”

 

Steve opens his mouth, but Tony cuts across him. “No, Wilson, he didn’t do it. I did.”

 

Only Natasha looks unsurprised. Even Rhodey stares at Tony with wide eyes.

 

“You did?” Steve says. “What – how?”

 

“You really thought it was that easy to just walk in there and break open the cells?” Tony doesn’t know whether to laugh or groan. He settles for some combination of both. “My God.”

 

“Why? I thought-“

 

“Because they put a nineteen-year-old in a shock collar and a straitjacket.” Wanda flinches and Tony sighs. “And now they’re going to do it to a seventeen-year-old, unless we do something about it. And you can bet your star-spangled ass that I’m going to do something about it.”

 

“I’ll help,” Wanda says, her lip curling.

 

Steve leans forward, putting on his Captain Face. “We don’t have to solve this with force-“

 

“This isn’t the time to be the good guy, Rogers-“

 

“We are the good guys,” Steve says, “and we need to prove that. We can’t let them think that we’re dangerous, or Ross gets what he wants.”

 

“Vigilante,” Tony says under his breath. “The kid’s not a vigilante, he’s – he’s an Avenger.”

 

“Was he ever officially invited?”

 

“Yes. Twice. The first time, he turned it down. The second time…well, I kind of told him how it was going to be, but I think it counts.”

 

Natasha shares a glance with Rhodey. “When? Did anyone see it happen?”

 

“On the spaceship, so just me, the kid and Strange. Why?”

 

“We need to prove he’s affiliated with the Avengers,” Rhodey says. “That way, we can say he’s supervised, so to speak, and Ross doesn’t have a leg to stand on. No violence necessary.”

 

“Shame,” Wanda says.

 

“Anyone have the wizard’s number? Or Wong’s?”

 

 _“Dialling,”_ FRIDAY says.

 

_“Stark?”_

 

“Hey, Merlin!” Tony grins because, as much he tried not to, he really missed Strange and his stupid beard. “Pack a bag and your flying cloak. We’re going to DC.”

 

* * *

 

Peter gets bored pretty quickly after Ross leaves. He assumes either the box or the cell he’s in must be soundproof, because he can’t hear anything. He starts getting twitchy, but he can’t even move and, worst of all, his nose starts to itch.

 

Fuck this.

 

After a few unsuccessful attempts at scrunching his face up, Peter lets out a loud groan.

 

“Hey, shut it!” The voice comes from somewhere behind him.

 

“I’m bored, man! I need to scratch my nose.”

 

“Deal with it.”

 

“Well, you suck,” Peter mutters, trying to think about anything else but the tickling feeling on the tip of his nose.

 

“Stay quiet or you’re gonna find out just how much.”

 

“What if I need to pee?”

 

“Hold it.”

 

“Come _on_.” Peter tries to keep his tone light, but his heart is beating fast. What if this is it? What if no one notices he’s missing until it’s too late? What if they can’t get him out? “I’m sure there’s rules about how you have to treat people.”

 

The laugh he gets in response makes his heart sink to his stomach. “Not for you, freak.”

 

Shit. He’s in trouble.

 

* * *

 

 

“This it?”

 

“Yep.”

 

Tony steps through the portal in his favourite suit, oozing charm. A stern-looking woman sitting behind a desk stares at him.

 

“Mr…Stark? Where did you come from?”

 

“New York, Madame President.”

 

“I see,” she says faintly.

 

Strange closes the portal with more flourish than strictly necessary and nods. “Doctor Stephen Strange, ma’am. We wouldn’t have intruded like this if it wasn’t urgent.”

 

“Yes.” President Moore collects herself quickly; the world has seen worse things than a glowing circle. “Well, make it quick. I have a meeting with the Secretary of State soon. Important, apparently.”

 

“About that…” Tony straightens his suit. “Earlier today, Mr Ross detained and imprisoned a member of the Avengers, claiming he was a vigilante: Spider-Man. I’m here to tell you that Spider-Man is not a wild card, as the Secretary will no doubt try to tell you, but operates under the jurisdiction of the Avengers.” Wow, that was a lot of big words. “Doctor Strange is here to attest to the fact that I made him an official member of the team.”

 

Moore nods. “I see. How can I help?”

 

“Demand the release of Spider-Man. I have a recorded video call where the Secretary states his intention to move him to the Raft prison. I’m no legal expert, but I wasn’t aware he had that authority anymore.”

 

“You’re correct. He doesn’t.”

 

“Then, Madame President, I’d like our teammate returned, please.”

 

“Ma’am?” An aide knocks and peeks through the door. “The Secretary of State is here.”

 

“Send him in.”

 

Ross strides into the Oval Office like he owns the place, but falters when he sees Tony and Strange. “What – how did you get here so fast?”

 

Strange wiggles his hand and a few sparks dance around his fingertips. The Cloak lifts one corner and waves as sarcastically as a piece of clothing can.

 

Ross’s eyes widen and he turns back to Moore. “Ma’am, thank you for waiting up so late to see me. I don’t know what these two have said to you, but this is-“

 

“About Spider-Man?” Moore says.

 

“Yes, ma’am. I took the liberty of detaining what I consider to be a very real threat to the public, but I feel that, with time, he could become an important asset to the government instead of a loose cannon.”

 

“He is not an asset,” Tony snaps, unable to help himself. “He’s a person with abilities that he uses to help people, and we should all be grateful for it.”

 

Strange shoots him a warning glare. Right, stay calm. Best way to help Peter.

 

The President sits forward in her chair. “Mr Secretary, can I ask on what grounds you arrested and imprisoned this individual?”

 

“Under the law against unsanctioned vigilantes, ma’am.”

 

“Were you aware that this Spider-Man is, in fact, an Avenger?”

 

Ross flounders for a second. “He never signed the Accords.”

 

“Irrelevant now. That seems to be a very careless oversight, Secretary.”

 

“He’s dangerous-“

 

“And under the jurisdiction of the Avengers. As I understand it, that makes him anything but a loose cannon. Where is he being held?”

 

“Madame President, I believe you’re making a mistake-“

 

Moore fixes Ross with a steely glare. “Release Spider-Man, Secretary. Don’t make me ask again. Where is he?”

 

* * *

 

The next person that moves into his line of sight is a guard, and Peter braces himself for another verbal sparring, but he’s followed by Mr Stark, wearing a face like thunder.

 

“Mr Stark!”

 

“Is all that fucking necessary?” Mr Stark say flatly, gesturing to the glass cube and the restraints. “Get him out of there, now.”

 

“Of course, Mr Stark.”

 

The restraints pop open and Peter reaches up to scratch his nose with a sigh of relief.

 

The guard slides the glass open. “You’re free to go.”

 

“Wait – really?”

 

“I’ll take it from here,” Mr Stark says, his voice cold, and Peter’s smile falls as the guard turns to walk away.

 

What if Mr Stark is really mad at him for getting caught?

 

“Did you come all the way out – um, I don’t know where we are, but thank you! Thank you so much-“

 

Mr Stark drops his icy glare and pulls Peter into a hug.

 

“Oof! Okay…not mad?”

 

“Not at you.”

 

“But – the Secretary-"

 

“All sorted.”

 

“What’d you do?”

 

“Oh, pulled a few strings, worked my magic.”

 

“ _My_ magic, Stark.”

 

“Doctor Strange!” Peter’s just so relieved to see _people_ that he hops out of Mr Stark’s arms and barrels into Doctor Strange, who gives him an awkward little pat on the shoulder.

 

“Our collective magic,” Mr Stark continues, “and if that asshole Ross knows what’s good for him, he won’t so much as look at you again.”

 

Doctor Strange pulls back from Peter and opens another portal. Natasha’s face appears in it and she smirks. “How did it feel to be on the wrong side of the law, kid?”

 

“No, we can’t joke about that,” Mr Stark says, his arm sliding around Peter’s shoulders as they step through the portal and come out in the lobby of the Compound.

 

“Too soon?”

 

“Too soon.”

 

Peter laughs. “I was a criminal.”

 

“Yeah, for about five hours. Oh, by the way, I told your aunt.”

 

“You what?”

 

“Not so much fun breaking the law now, is it?”

 

“Mr Stark! She’s going to kill me!”


	8. bullied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s nothing big, Peter tells himself. Just a little bit every day, chipping away at him, wearing him down, breaking down his wall, piece by piece.
> 
>  
> 
> But he’s Spider-Man. He can take it. He has to, so no one else has to. He’s looking out for the little guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this is a day late! yesterday was hectic BUT i'm going to try to catch up sometime over the next week, so look out for a day when i upload twice.

It’s nothing big, Peter tells himself. Just a little bit every day, chipping away at him, wearing him down, breaking down his wall, piece by piece.

 

But he’s Spider-Man. He can take it. He has to, so no one else has to. He’s looking out for the little guy.

 

It’s nothing, nothing he can tell anyone about without sounding pathetic. It’s a “Hey, Penis,” every time he walks into a class with Flash. It’s a snide comment about his “imaginary internship”. It’s members of the football team shoving past him in the corridor, and he lets them. It’s no single thing he can pinpoint, but it wears him down anyway.

 

It's bad enough that he's been held back to his junior year while half the year, Ned and MJ included, moved on and into college, but the Decathlon team still meets up at school on occasion, and then the enforced age gap becomes even more obvious.

 

“Are you… _you-know-what_ tonight?” Ned mimes shooting a web.

 

“Dude!” Peter hisses. “Don’t say that so loud!”

 

“What’s wrong, Penis?” Flash leans around Betty. “Is he talking about your fake internship again?”

 

Peter sighs heavily and glances at the clock.

 

“Peter,” MJ says sharply, “we boring you?”

 

“No, no. Sorry.”

 

“Back to work, loser.”

 

“Uh-huh.” This Decathlon practice can not end soon enough.

 

“But are you?” Ned whispers when everyone’s turned away again.

 

“Yes. Now shut up, dude.”

 

“Wicked.”

 

Peter practically runs out of the room when practice finishes, Ned jogging behind him.

 

“I have to hurry, man, because I’m going to Mr Stark’s later and I want to get as much time in patrolling as I can.”

 

“Okay, sure. Need any help?”

 

“I’m good, thanks, Ned.” He’s not sure why he’s so frustrated all of a sudden; he chalks it up to being tired.

 

“Oh. Cool. Still, you know where to find me.”

 

“On your X-Box in your dorm?”

 

“ _Peter_ , I’m trying to sound all cool and mysterious here-“

 

Someone barges past and makes Peter stumble into Ned with a grunt.

 

“Sorry, man-“ He tries to step back quickly and ends up backing into someone else. “Crap, I’m sorry!”

 

“Watch it, dumbass!” The person shoves him and Peter falls back into Ned again.

 

“Sorry,” Peter says again. He’s so _tired_. He just wants to curl up in bed – at home, at the Compound, whatever – and pull a blanket over his head.

 

But he can’t do that. People might need him.

 

“You don’t have to let them push you around, you know.”

 

“What?”

 

“We both know you could take down this whole corridor blindfolded. Come on, dude! There’s no way they’re stronger than you-“

 

“Yeah, but they can’t know that,” Peter mutters. “I’m still tiny. And what if I hurt someone? Besides, I can’t just suddenly be as strong as Captain America. People will talk.”

 

“People do little else,” Ned says with fake seriousness. “But seriously, Peter. You went to space. You fought an alien-“

 

“You wanna shout that any louder?” Peter mumbles as he opens his locker. Everything is just a little too loud, a little too close; it’s all grating on him, even Ned’s voice.

 

“-you’re an Avenger. And now you just have to come back to high school and let people walk all over you? That’s bullshit.”

 

“Well, I was a nobody before the spider, I was a nobody when I went to Germany, I was a nobody when I took down the Vulture and I was a nobody when I disappeared to fight Thanos. I still have to be a nobody now.”

 

“You’re not a nobody, Peter. You’re a hero!”

 

“I wasn’t a hero, Ned!” he snaps. He’s so freaking _exhausted_. “Okay? It wasn’t cool or – or heroic or whatever you think. I _died_. There was nothing cool about it.” He slams his locker shut, wincing when everyone turns to see who made the noise. “Whatever, man. Sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” But Ned doesn’t fill the following silence with his usual chatter and his goodbye at the school gates is more subdued than normal.

 

Perfect.

 

Peter seriously considers going straight to the Compound, but his suit and webshooters are at the apartment rather than in his backpack and Happy would be pissed if he had to collect Peter early with no forewarning.

 

Patrol it is.

 

“Watch out, Penis!” Flash barrels past him with no warning and the impact makes him trip into a trash can. His ribs twinge in protest. “Have fun hanging out with the Avengers – I mean, your imaginary friends.”

 

Wincing at the bruises forming on his ribs and arm, Peter heads home.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, honey!” May calls when he walks in. “You going on the webs tonight before you go to Tony’s?”

 

“Yeah, thought I’d meet Happy halfway. Save him a trip into the city.”

 

“Well, wherever you leave your overnight bag, make sure it’s safe this time.”

 

“Sure.” He’s antsy and he doesn’t even know why, shifting from foot to foot.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Are you sure?” May leaves her cup of coffee on the side and moves closer to stare at him. “You look tired.”

 

“I said I’m fine, May!”

 

She blinks and Peter catches a tiny flare of hurt in her eyes before she turns away.

 

“I’m sorry, I just…” He gestures aimlessly. “Long day.”

 

“Okay,” she says. “Say hi to Happy for me.”

 

“Say hi-? Why?”

 

“Just…you know, being nice.”

 

“Oh my God!” Peter can’t get to his room quick enough.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, kid. Appreciate not having to drive all the way to Brooklyn.”

 

Peter supposes that’s as close to a _thank you_ as Happy ever gets and rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he fastens his seatbelt. “I live in Queens, Happy.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, same difference.” A few minutes pass in silence. “Good patrol?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Good.”

 

Peter stares of out the window.

 

“You feeling okay, kid?”

 

“…yes?”

 

“Don’t give me that tone. You’re just normally talking my ear off, so you good?”

 

“ _Yes_ , I’m fine,” Peter snaps.

 

“Okay, wow, just asking.” The partition slides up and Peter feels even worse than before.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Underoos!” Mr Stark calls when Peter walks into the kitchen. “You want pizza or Chinese later?”

 

Peter shrugs and pulls out bread from the cupboard. “Either’s fine.”

 

“Really? Because normally you have very strong opinions about that sort of thing.”

 

“I really don’t care. You pick.” He throws the slice of bread into the toaster harder than he needs to.

 

Awkward silence reigns while Peter grabs the butter and waits for the toaster to finish.

 

Mr Stark frowns at him. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Why is everyone asking me that today?” Peter bursts out.

 

“Because ‘everyone’ is worried. Of course, by everyone I mean Fred, May and Happy who all texted me to warn me you were in a weird mood today. Care to explain?”

 

“Like I told them, I’m just tired.”

 

“Tired or mentally exhausted?”

 

“Yes.” Peter groans and pulls out a butter knife. “Why does it matter?”

 

“Because you’re about to spread butter on your phone.”

 

Peter looks down and sees Mr Stark is right.

 

“If you’re tired and it’s making you that distracted, then you’re not going in the lab and you’re not going out as Spider-Man again.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Oh, boo-hoo, I’m a teenager and I hate it when people care about my mental and physical wellbeing.” Mr Stark rolls his eyes. “Spare me the teen angst, Parker, that’s not you. Truth time: are you really just tired?”

 

No getting out of this one. “Fine. No, I’m not just tired.”

 

“Then what’s going on with you?”

 

Peter takes a mouthful of his toast and chews it slowly.

 

“Peter.”

 

“Just…some kids at school.” Mr Stark sits up straighter and Peter hurriedly adds, “It’s literally nothing. It’s been going on since forever. I can handle it.”

 

“Mm, yes. Look at you, handling it by lashing out at everyone that talks to you.”

 

“It’s just high school, Mr Stark.”

 

“Far be it from me to interfere with the sacred hierarchy of teenagers.” Mr Stark sounds amused, and it’s humiliating. “But even if you can ‘handle it’, it needs to stay at school. It can’t come with you, okay? It can’t come here, it can’t affect Spider-Man, and it certainly can’t follow you home.”

 

“I know that-“

 

“Why don’t you fight back, huh?” He’s not amused; he’s concerned, and that’s almost worse.

 

“Because I couldn’t then so-“

 

“So you shouldn’t now, yeah, I get it. Heard it already. Pete, you shouldn’t just let bullying happen.”

 

“What?” Peter inhales and nearly chokes on his toast. “No, it’s – it’s not like that-“

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

“It’s just little things – it’s almost nothing-“

 

“Almost? It was literally nothing five minutes ago.”

 

“It’s been going on for years, Mr Stark-“

 

“Years?”

 

“-and I just had a bad day. That’s it. It’s fine.”

 

“Fine? It’s wearing you down, Peter.”

 

Peter shrugs. He doesn’t have a clever comeback to that one.

 

“Should we – I don’t know, should May and I talk to the school?”

 

“No way! Absolutely not. I can deal with it.”

 

That gets him a frustrated head shake. “The only possible conclusion I can draw from our conversation is that you’re not dealing with it.”

 

“Yeah, well, whatever. It’s not just me, okay? It happens.”

 

“It does,” Mr Stark agrees, “but it shouldn’t. God, high schools never change, do they?”

 

Peter smiles.

 

“You sure you don’t want me going down there and giving them a piece of my mind? I’m told I can be very persuasive. And scary. Maybe I could bring a suit. Oh! Shall we send Pepper?”

 

This time, Peter laughs. He feels a little lighter. “I’m good, Mr Stark. It’s normally nothing. It doesn’t usually get to me like this.”

 

“There he is,” Mr Stark says, “there’s my favourite lab assistant.”

 

“Favourite? I’m your only lab assistant.”

 

Mr Stark holds out his arm and Peter slides into his familiar hold. “No, I have Dum-E and Butterfingers.”

 

“Call me biased, but at least I don’t try to poison you by putting engine oil in your coffee.” Peter cocks his head, pretending to think as they walk towards the lab. “Now I think about it…”

 

“Oh, please. Make Happy’s job more interesting.” They step into the elevator. “The lab, FRIDAY. But I’m serious, Pete: don’t let it get this bad again. You need to blow off some steam, then there’s a whole gym of things to hit, and obviously there’s Barton.”

 

Peter can’t hold back another laugh and Mr Stark’s arm tightens for a second.

 

“You want to talk? You got May, Ted, me if you want. I know it's hard for you, going back and your friends are older than you are and some whiny brat's giving you shit. If you say it doesn’t normally affect you, then fine, I believe you, but if it starts to upset you like this again, you need to tell someone and let them help you. Got it?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Good. So, pizza or Chinese?”

 

“Pizza. Duh.”

 

“Back to normal, I see.”

 

The elevator doors slide open.

 

“Mr Stark?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Anytime, Underoos.”

 

Peter twists his hands together. “You, um…you’re gonna be a good dad.”

 

“Well, I sure hope so.” Mr Stark looks at him with a serious expression. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” He barely gives Peter’s mouth time to fall open before continuing, “Which is why I’ll be dropping by your school to have a quiet word – don’t look at me like that, I said quiet – a quiet word with your principal about this. Okay?”

 

Peter nods. “Okay.”

 

“Good. Right, what are we doing today?”

 

“Um, I was thinking about adding storage for more web cartridges. I nearly ran out swinging to meet Happy.”

 

“Sounds good. FRIDAY, order our usual pizzas, please?”

 

_“Of course, Boss.”_

 

Peter takes a deep breath and lets himself relax. His world has levelled out again, righted itself.

 

He’s okay.


	9. coma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanos may be weak, but he still has his gauntlet. No one can match it.
> 
>  
> 
> But Tony can.
> 
>  
> 
> He knows. He knows using it again will probably kill him. He’ll never get to marry Pepper, never get to watch Peter grow up.
> 
>  
> 
> This is for them, he reminds himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? updating early? finishing a prompt on time? what strange alternate reality did i fall into?

They’d done it. They’d actually fucking done it.

 

After hopping around time and space to retrieve the Stones and slaving countless hours in Wakanda’s labs to make a new gauntlet, it seems almost anticlimactic for Tony to snap his fingers and undo what Thanos had done.

 

It _hurts_. Christ, it hurts, like sticking his whole arm into the sun. Each Stone is pushing and pulling his consciousness, dragging him in every direction.

 

_You can do anything, be anything, have anything you want._

_Just let go._

 

_The universe is yours to command._

_We are yours to command._

_What do you want? You can have anything._

 

 _Peter_ , Tony thinks, _you took him. You took so many people. Bring them back. Bring him back._

 

_Is that all?_

_There is so much more._

_All of creation is yours to control._

_You haven’t even begun to harness our power, our energy-_

 

Tony grits his teeth _. No. Bring back everyone you took. Safely._

 

They probe a little deeper. _All this for a child._

 

N _ot just any child_. Tony clenches his fist tighter. _I’ve told you what I want. Do it._

_You are strong, Stark._

And then he blacks out.

 

When he opens his eyes again, Rhodey and Carol are leaning over him, twin expressions of concern on their faces.

 

“Holy shit,” Rhodey breathes. “Really thought that was it for you, man. I thought her glowing was impressive, but you…”

 

Tony tries to sit up, wincing as pain shoots up his left arm. “Did it…?”

 

“See for yourself.” Carol glances down the field.

 

Steve is locked in an embrace with Barnes. As Tony watches, Sam Wilson sprints towards them and Steve pulls him in, too.

 

Clint and Natasha start to run, sliding to their knees beside a hysterical Wanda. Rocket is talking to a tree that has a face, because today can’t get any more ridiculous.

 

“Peter,” Tony says. “Is he here? Where is he?”

 

Carol shakes her head. “We think everyone’s reappearing where they…dusted, so…”

 

So Peter’s in space, on a strange planet, possibly millions of miles away.

 

Thunder cracks and a pulsating blue light appears by the tree line.

 

“Stark!”

 

He knows that voice all too well. He hears it in his nightmares, right beside Peter’s.

 

“What did you do?” Thanos roars. His own gauntlet is cracked and burnt, but he still has his six Stones.

 

“I brought them all back!” Tony doesn’t look nearly as imposing as he would have liked, stumbling forward with Rhodey steadying him. “I fixed the fucking hole you left in the universe. You took people – you had no right to do that!”

 

“I was the only one who could face what needed to be done!” Thanos brings his left arm up and Tony braces for something: a blast from the Power Stone, another moon falling from the sky, something.

 

Thanos doesn’t get that far. A tendril of red light wraps around his fist and Tony’s gaze follows it to find Wanda, who looks pale and shaky and absolutely fucking furious. Carol takes off, shooting a proton blast at Thanos, and Thor follows her with a roar.

 

“Better get in there,” Tony mutters, his hand moving towards his chest piece.

 

“You?” Rhodey says. “Absolutely not. You’re wiped out, man. You heard Thor: using that thing drains you.”

 

“But-“

 

An orange circle appears in the air about a hundred yards away. Figures slip and stumble out of it, collapsing on the grass.

 

“Shit,” Rhodey says, “is that-?”

 

Tony runs.

 

The portal fizzles shut and the pile of people start to roll away from each other. Strange sits up, his Cloak settling around his shoulders. Mr Star Lord Quill from Missouri clambers to his feet.

 

Tony only has eyes for one person.

 

He falls to his knees, pulls Peter into his arms and cradles his head to his chest. Peter’s trembling all over, but his arms slowly creep around Tony.

 

“You’re okay,” Tony breathes, because he needs to hear it just as much as Peter does, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.” He remembers the last words he said to Peter, like telling him “You’re all right,” was going to magically make it true. This time, he’s not lying.

 

“Mr Stark,” Peter whispers.

 

Thanos roars and Tony turns in time to see Carol and Wanda sailing through the air.

 

He’s weak, but he still has his gauntlet. No one can match it.

 

But Tony can.

 

He knows. He knows using it again will probably kill him. He’ll never get to marry Pepper, never get to watch Peter grow up.

 

 _This is for them_ , he reminds himself.

 

Strange catches his eye over the top of Peter’s head.

 

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Tony asks, because the bastard _knows_ ; he’s been three steps ahead of them the whole time. He knew what was going to happen. He knows what has to happen next.

 

Strange just nods.

 

“Okay.” Tony gently disentangles himself from Peter, ignoring the way his heart clenches when Peter whines. “Pete? You gotta stay here.”

 

“Where’re you going?” Peter stares up at him. “Let me help, I can fight-“

 

Sure, he looks about two seconds away from puking and then passing out, but he can fight. Tony missed him, he’s missed him _so damn much_ , and now he has to leave again.

 

“No. Stay here.” Tony turns and starts to jog away before Peter’s heart-breaking expression can change his mind.

 

His armour bleeds out of his housing unit as he runs and he scoops up his gauntlet on the way, only hesitating a moment before slipping it back on.

 

The residual, throbbing pain in his left arm intensifies again to a sharp burning, so hot it almost feels cold.

 

_Back so soon?_

_We did what you asked._

_We thought you were done._

 

 _One more thing_ , Tony tells them, _and then I’m getting rid of all of you._

They sense his conviction. _Then command us._

 

_I want to kill Thanos._

 

For some reason, they don’t fight him this time. Maybe the universe knows that Thanos has to go. Maybe they’ve gotten bored trying to tempt him. Maybe they know that he’s the only person who made Thanos bleed.

 

They swirl around his mind, their colours merging into a dizzying white, while their voices hiss in unison.

 

_Kill Thanos. Kill Thanos._

 

Something happens. Tony’s not quite sure what. His arm is on fire, but he manages to peel open his eyes and find the blur of purple.

 

He just has enough time to roar, “Everyone get back!” before the gauntlet lights up and his world goes white.

 

In the back of his mind, he hears Peter screaming his name.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter wishes he hadn’t listened when Mr Stark told him to stay put.

 

He should have done something. Yes, he felt like shit after reforming, but he should have told Mr Stark to stay, or followed him, or-

 

Now he’s staring at a beam of white light where Mr Stark was just standing.

 

So he runs.

 

“Kid!” Doctor Strange yells. “Don’t!”

 

A portal appears before his feet but he hops over it. All he can think of is getting to Mr Stark.

 

Something grabs him around the waist.

 

“No! Get off me! Mr Stark!”

 

A second set of arms joins the first, one hard and metal, the other definitely human but unbelievably strong.

 

“Please…” Peter doesn’t even know what he’s asking. He’s crying, tears trickling down his cheeks, and they’re going to think he’s just a pathetic kid.

 

“I’m sorry, kid.” He turns to meet the eyes of War Machine; turns out Peter isn’t the only one crying.

 

With a last, guttural scream, Thanos falls to his knees and slips limply to the ground. He doesn’t move again.

 

The white light fades away to reveal Mr Stark lying on the ground, his armour burned and cracked to pieces.

 

“Oh, shit,” someone hisses nearby.

 

“Steve,” War Machine says, “don’t let the kid-“

 

Peter twists his body so violently that they both stumble back. He drives his foot into someone’s stomach – holy shit, he just kicked Captain America _again_ – and runs.

 

He skids to his knees beside Mr Stark, tears blurring his vision again. “No, no, no, Mr Stark, Mr Stark, please.” Not again, he can’t do this again. Not after his parents, after Ben. He can’t lose anyone else. “No, wake up, please, please-“

 

“Peter.”

 

He whips his head around. How does War Machine know his name?

 

“Let the medics through.”

 

Medics?

 

“Come on.” Someone helps him to his feet. “If anyone can fix him, the doctors in Wakanda can.”

 

“This is the kid?” someone whispers.

 

“Must be.”

 

“He’s so young.”

 

They know him. There are medics. They’re taking Mr Stark away. Peter’s so confused, but he can’t even care that he’s confused. He’s just numb.

 

“We’re walking, kid. Come on. One step at a time.”

 

“Mr War Machine, sir?”

 

“God, Tony said you were polite.” War Machine manages a smile. “Just Rhodey is fine, kid.”

 

“Mr Rhodey, how do you know my name?”

 

“Tony talked about you all the time.”

 

“Oh.” The past tense he uses sends a shiver of unease down Peter’s spine.

 

“He’ll be fine, kid. I’ve known him longer than just about anyone. He’s too fucking stubborn to die.”

 

“But…”

 

“He’ll be fine,” Rhodey says gently.

 

* * *

 

Coma. Mr Stark is in a coma.

 

They get the news after Peter’s been hugged by what seems like a hundred people. He doesn’t know most of them, but they all seem to know him.

 

 _Tony’s kid._ It’s whispered over and over again, like it makes more sense the more they say it. He’s not Mr Stark’s kid; he’s an intern, a protégé at best.

 

Just when he thinks his day can’t get any weirder – you know, after coming back to life, travelling hundreds of thousands of miles in a single step and watching Mr Stark wield the power of the entire freaking cosmos – Pepper Potts arrives and sweeps him into her arms.

 

He freezes, partly out of confusion, partly surprise, and partly because she reminds him of May and he suddenly misses his aunt so much he wants to cry again.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Miss Potts says when she pulls back. “I know this must be strange for you – you don’t know me at all, but we’ve all heard so much about you and we’re so glad you’re okay. Tony, he…really missed you.”

 

Peter nods. He’s still confused.

 

“He’s come out of tighter spots than this. Don’t worry. Would you like to see him?”

 

Peter just nods again.

 

* * *

 

The hospital room is quiet. Everything is high-tech, futuristic and almost completely silent.

 

It’s been three days. Peter was reunited with May not long after they all regrouped in Wakanda’s palace, courtesy of Doctor Strange, and they hugged for what seemed like years. She cried, but Peter did, too.

 

He hasn’t moved from Mr Stark’s room since then.

 

Miss Potts and Rhodey take turns to sit with him during the day and leave the bed in the corner to Peter at night. Peter doesn’t use it.

 

He’s been told off every morning by the princess for sleeping in Mr Stark’s bed, but Peter needs to be close to him, needs to feel his chest rising and falling while his heart beats. Otherwise, he looks too much like Ben. He looks dead.

 

May comes in with meals that Peter picks at. She tells him, her voice trembling, that he’d been gone for four years.

 

Four whole years.

 

He should be twenty.

 

How much has he missed? Did life go on without the missing people or did the world grind to a halt? Did school stay open? Has he missed his own graduation?

 

He’s too afraid to ask.

 

Through it all, Mr Stark stays still and silent. He’s ‘expected to make a full recovery’, whatever that means, but no one will say when.

 

“Please wake up,” Peter whispers. It’s too cruel that Mr Stark spent four years trying to get him back for them to only have two minutes together. “Mr Stark, please.”

 

* * *

 

“Mr Stark?”

 

That voice. That name.

 

“Mr Stark, please.”

 

 _Peter_. He’s crying.

 

He’s had this dream before – well, it’s a memory. Peter will die and he’ll be just as fucking helpless as all the other times.

 

“I don’t – I can’t lose you as well. Please.”

 

Okay, this is new.

 

“Everyone here talks to me like they know me, and I know, like, two of their real names. They call me your kid.”

 

Yes. Because he is.

 

“They all say you missed me – apparently, it’s been four years.”

 

It was.

 

“Well, it’s been a week now, and I miss you, so can you…wake up? Please? I’d pay money to hear you yell at me again, to be honest.”

 

Tempting, Tony wants to say. The retort is right on the tip of his tongue, along with the promise of a smile. He can smile, and see Peter smile back, and his world will finally be back to how it should be.

 

He tore apart the universe just so he could see Peter smile again.

 

But to do that, he needs to wake up.

 

Tony Stark opens his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually hope nebula ends up killing thanos for the Catharsis but here it had to be tony for the Angst.


	10. head trauma (pt.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony hears Wilson yell, “Oh, shit!” and turns just in time to see Peter sailing headfirst into a wall.

“Can you people-“ Peter swings across the street. “-leave Queens alone-“ He shoots a web at the next faceless attacker. “-for five – freaking – _minutes_!”

 

_“Do you expect an answer, or…?”_

 

“Mr Stark, it’s healthy to let me vent my frustrations.”

 

_“You’re an Avenger, kid. You should be used to this.”_

 

“I have physics homework!”

 

 _“Aww.”_ Mr Stark’s definitely laughing at him. _“I’m so glad you finally got your priorities straight, Spider-kid. Proud of you.”_

 

“I told you to stop calling me that.” Peter ties up two more black-clad – what does he call them? Minions? Underlings? “I’m seventeen.”

 

 _“Yeah, no, sorry,”_ a new voice cuts in. _“That definitely still qualifies you as_ kid _.”_

 

“Oh, good, here comes Birdman.”

 

Sam appears overhead, carrying something that, when he dives down and drops it, turns out to be Clint.

 

“My mistake. The Birdmen.”

 

 _“Alright, kid,”_ Sam says _. “Don’t make me kick your ass again.”_

“Oh, you kicked my ass? Sure.”

 

 _“Focus!”_ Captain America orders.

 

How many Avengers are coming? Although maybe that’s not such a bad thing, considering what Peter’s starting to suspect about the weapons these people are using.

 

 _“Pete, give us the lowdown!”_ Mr Stark calls.

 

Peter has to stop for a second and process that Mr Stark is actually letting him give a mission brief. “Okay! Uh…lots of…minions-“

 

Sam and Clint burst out laughing in his ears.

 

“Guys, I’m serious! Don’t know who the head guy is yet, but a lot of their weapons look kinda familiar-“

 

 _“Like Chituari tech?”_ Steve says. Peter catches sight of him on the ground with a blaster that he’s definitely stolen from one of them.

 

“Like Toomes tech, Mr Stark.”

 

Clint lets out a harsh scream that makes Peter jump. _“I just saw Ultron!”_

 

 _“Whoever called him a hawk had the right idea,”_ Mr Stark mutters. _“All right, listen up! Pete and I have dealt with this before – well, mostly Pete. It’s repurposed scraps from a lot of our missions, so yes: Chituari; Ultron; Hydra. You name it, they probably have it.”_

 

 _“How the hell is this shit on the streets?”_ Sam says.

 

_“Uhh, long story.”_

 

“I really thought we got it all.” Peter throws a web grenade and hops off the top of the apartment block he’d been perched on.

 

 _“Chin up, Parker,”_ Mr Stark says. _“They could have goddamn arc reactors if it wasn’t for you.”_

 

 _“What the_ hell _happened?”_

_“Tell you later, Wilson.”_

 

Peter webs up criminal after criminal. It’s like they just keep coming with no sign of letting up, and he’s so tired. He wants this fight to be over. It’s Wanda’s night to cook at the Compound, and he always loves her food.

 

One points an alien gun at him as he swings by and shouts, “Ready for round two, Spider-Man?”

 

“Didn’t I just web you up?” Peter yells back, barely dodging the blast.

 

“We have stuff that cuts through your goop like it’s nothing.”

 

“Ohhh.” Peter could kick himself. There aren’t hundreds of them; they just keep freeing themselves and coming back for more. “Hey, guys? My webs aren’t keeping them down for long. Any ideas?”

 

Sam starts to answer, but the guy below Peter fires another blast at him, and this time he isn’t quick enough to get out of the way.

 

The pulse of energy knocks him off his ledge and he yelps in shock. The next building across is spinning towards him.

 

Sam shouts, _“Oh, shit!”_ and his world goes black.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony hears Wilson yell, _“Oh, shit!”_ and turns just in time to see Peter sailing headfirst into a wall.

 

He waits for Peter to pop up again, bouncing and laughing, because he’s basically made of rubber.

 

There’s only silence.

 

“Spider-Man, we good?”

 

Nothing.

 

“Anyone got eyes on Spider-Man?”

 

 _“Still down,”_ Barton says.

 

Tony checks Karen’s location. “Okay, I’m heading over there.”

 

 _“Tony, we’re not done here,”_ Steve says.

 

“I’m checking on the kid, Rogers.” Tony lands beside Peter. “Hey, kid. Nap time’s over. Come do some work.”

 

Peter doesn’t move.

 

“Kid?” Tony half-expects him to roll over. They’ve done this a hundred times before: he reaches out and shakes Peter’s shoulder; Peter jumps and grabs his arms; they laugh. It’s almost a routine at this point.

 

It doesn’t happen like that this time.

 

“Pete!” Tony taps him again, a little more urgently. “Come on, Underoos. Not funny.”

 

_“Mr Stark?”_

 

“Hi, Karen.” He’s ninety-nine percent sure he didn’t program her to address him like that; she’s been spending too much time with Peter.

 

_“The fall knocked Peter unconscious. I suggest having him checked over.”_

 

“Right. Yeah.” _Breathe. Breathe._ “Cap, I’m heading. You got this handled?”

 

_“Tony-“_

 

“The kid’s done. I’ll see you back at the Compound.”

 

_“We could really use-“_

 

 _“Rogers.”_ Barton sounds amused. _“When a parent freaks, you gotta just let them freak.”_

 

Tony doesn’t have the mental capacity to argue with him. His brain is stuck on a constant loop of _PeterPeterPeter._

 

Steve sighs. _“Okay. See you later.”_

 

* * *

 

Helen is already waiting when Tony lands at the Compound. Peter still hasn’t woken up.

 

She takes one look at him and says, “Calm down.”

 

“I’m not-“

 

“Put him on the stretcher and stop panicking.”

 

Tony sighs and gently lays the kid where she’s pointing.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Took a fall. Probably hit his head.”

 

“Okay. I’ll look him over. Go on.” She shoos him out of the room.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, May! How are you today-?”

 

She sighs down the phone. _“What did you do?”_

 

“Nothing serious! I just – Peter took a bit of a spill today and he’s resting up here, so I can send Happy to pick you up? Have dinner, stay the night.”

 

He’s expecting her to yell the way she did when she found out Peter was Spider-Man, but she just sighs again. “ _That would be good, thank you, Tony. Is he okay?”_

 

“Probably concussed, but he’ll sleep it off.” Tony taps his foot. “Sorry, I should’ve kept a closer eye on him.”

 

 _“If you kept a closer eye on him than you do now, he’d be under a microscope.”_ She laughs and Tony relaxes: no scary May Parker today, thank God. That’s one thing his nerves definitely can’t take. _“So, did you say Happy?”_

 

“Yeah, why? I can send someone else-?”

 

_“No! No, Happy’s good. Great, in fact.”_

 

Tony shakes his head. “I’m not even going to ask.”

 

May hangs up on him.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter sleeps through dinner.

 

By the time the rest of the team gets back, May arrives and Pepper gets home from work, Helen has told Tony to calm down at least ten times. She’s threatening to ban him from the entire medical wing when Bruce shows up.

 

“What’s the problem?”

 

“He’s stressing me out,” Helen snaps. “I didn’t even know I could get stressed!”

 

“The kid’s hit his head. I’m just worried.”

 

“Tony,” Bruce says, “it’s true, head injuries are always tricky-“

 

“Not helping!”

 

“-but Peter’s Spider-Man, okay? He heals quicker than Steve. He’ll be fine. So go have dinner and just…calm down.”

 

Tony nods and gives in. “He’s gonna be so pissed he missed Wanda’s cooking.”

 

* * *

 

Tony and May sit either side of Peter’s bed. The shallow cut that Helen had found on his head has healed over and he looks like he’s simply sleeping peacefully.

 

“Sorry,” Tony says again. “I know you’ve never liked what he does. Today could have been a lot worse, and I know I encourage him.”

 

May smiles. “It’s like you said, Stark. He’d be doing it anyway, but at least now he has a better suit and a helicopter parent.”

 

“You’re not that bad.”

 

“I meant you.”

 

Tony chokes on his mouthful of coffee.

 

“Don’t do that. I’m sick of you pretending you don’t have emotions, Stark. Yes, Peter knows you care about him, but sometimes it’s nice to hear it. It’s not always something that goes without saying.”

 

“Never been good at that,” Tony admits, “but let’s not get into my deep-seated daddy issues right now. But I’m better than I was, right? At least now Peter knows that I only get angry because I’m worried and not because I’m actually angry.”

 

May gives him an exasperated glare.

 

“What?

 

“See? Parent. I don’t know why Pepper’s worried about going back to work once the baby’s born; you’re going to do fine.”

 

“I’m going to have a very helpful teenager on hand.”

 

May rolls her eyes and opens her mouth, but Peter shifts in the bed and she turns to him. “Hey, sweetheart.”

 

“May?” Peter sounds so incredibly young. “What…?”

 

“Take your time, you’ve been asleep for a while.”

 

“’M I…in hospital?”

 

“Yes, but don't worry. You’re absolutely fine, sweetheart.” May gently pulls him into a hug.

 

Peter squints up at Tony over May’s shoulder. His eyes go wide. “What’s he doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part two is coming tomorrow!


	11. amnesia (pt.2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s probably better to let those memories return on their own,” Strange says. “We don’t want to overload you.”
> 
>  
> 
> “But…” Peter looks frustrated and his eyes fill with tears. “You all know me.” His gaze strays to Tony. “I can’t remember you. It’s not fair!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for this chapter i irritated my friends studying psychology and medicine endlessly, and i think i still disregarded what they told me because of the angst.

“What’s he doing here?”

 

Tony opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

 

“Peter,” May says gently, “that’s Tony.”

 

“I know who he is,” Peter hisses, “but what is Tony Stark doing in my hospital room?” He goes very still. “Is this a Make-A-Wish situation or something?”

 

“Peter!” May looks horrified. “Of course not! You’re fine, you just hit your head fighting as Spider-Man.”

 

Peter’s eyes grow wide and they fill with tears. “You _know_ about that?”

 

This has gone well past being funny, not that it was to begin with.

 

“FRIDAY?” Tony says quietly. “Get Bruce and Helen in here, please. And call Strange.”

 

_“Right away, Boss.”_

 

Peter flinches at her voice.

 

“Don’t worry, kid.” Tony tries to sound as casual as he can, like he isn’t breaking apart inside. “That’s just the AI that runs the building.”

 

“Cool.” Peter looks at him shyly. “It’s really awesome you’re here, Mr Stark, but…you don’t know me.”

 

_I do, kid, I know you better than I know myself._

 

“Well, you’re in my medical wing, and I don’t let just anyone in here.”

 

Peter frowns at that, but Bruce walks in before he can say anything.

 

“Hey, Tony. What’s the problem?”

 

“Holy shit!” Peter squeaks. “You’re Bruce Banner. I’ve read, like, all your papers, but you…” He trails off with another frown. “You’re missing. You disappeared after that thing in Sokovia. No one’s seen you in months.”

 

“Ah,” Bruce says, “I see.”

 

* * *

 

 

Helen pulls Tony and May aside and whispers that Peter’s head injury may have caused some amnesia, but she wants to wait for Stephen to confirm it.

 

“Why him?” May asks.

 

“He was a neurosurgeon before the…” Tony raises his hands and wiggles his fingers. “You know.”

 

He’s being flippant because making light of bad situations is the only way he knows how to get through them, and if he doesn’t laugh, he’ll panic.

 

“And retrograde amnesia means what?” He knows, but he’s asking purely for May’s benefit.

 

“It would mean his working memory is completely fine, and he should have no problems with it in the future. However, there is a block of time that he’s unable to recall at the moment.” Helen smiles reassuringly. “If I’m right, it would be helpful to try and pinpoint the last thing he remembers.”

 

“So, he knows he’s Spider-Man,” Tony says slowly, “but he hasn’t met me, which possibly narrows it down to a few months.”

 

“This is just speculation until Stephen gets here,” Helen warns.

 

“Oh, God.” May gasps and covers her mouth. “Do you think he remembers about Ben?”

 

They all freeze.

 

“I…” Tony rubs his head. “No, he – he told me he started being Spider-Man after…after that.”

 

“Okay, at least I don’t have to…”

 

“Speculation,” Helen reminds them.

 

As if on cue, a portal opens beside them.

 

“Stark, what’s so urgent?” Strange looks the same as ever; Tony wonders if he only has the one tunic.

 

“Peter is, um…”

 

Helen takes over. “He took a blow to the head. I’ve diagnosed a mild concussion and possible retrograde amnesia, but I wanted your opinion.”

 

“Happy to help, then.”

 

They file back to the room where Bruce has been keeping Peter company. The kid looks starry-eyed, bouncing question after question off Bruce. They wait, watching through the window while Strange walks in.

 

“Hi, Peter. I’m Doctor Strange.”

 

“That’s a made-up name, right?” Peter says with a nervous grin.

 

Strange’s eyes tighten for a second; he remembers that day on the spaceship, too. “No. No, my name is Doctor Stephen Strange.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Why don’t I ask you some questions, hm? Nothing too hard. What’s your name?”

 

“You just said-“

 

“Your full name.”

 

“Peter Benjamin Parker. You’re the third person to ask me that today.”

 

“Standard procedure with head injuries, I’m afraid. Now, do you remember receiving the injury?”

 

“No.”

 

“Also quite normal.” Tony’s never thought of Strange as a people person, and definitely not good with kids, but he’s taking this all in his stride. Peter’s relaxing, too. “In that case, what is the last thing you remember?”

 

“I was…um, I was just at home. I think May was cooking. Just a normal day.”

 

“That’s fine,” Strange says easily. “I’m going to give you some words now. Just tell me everything you can about them, okay?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Right. Oscorp.”

 

“Shitty field trip.”

 

Strange snorts. “Care to elaborate?”

 

Peter dithers. “Just…wasn’t good.” He narrows his eyes. “Why that in particular?”

 

“No reason. Next word: Titan.”

 

Tony winces.

 

“Those…Greek god things?”

 

“Okay. Tony Stark.”

 

“Iron Man,” Peter says, like it’s obvious.

 

“Ever met him?”

 

“Yeah, of course, but he won’t remember. I don’t know why he’s here.”

 

“But you say you met him?”

 

“Once. I was, like, eight.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“It was at the Stark Expo. I had an Iron Man helmet on and he signed a drawing I did. Then when the drone things attacked, I got in the way of one…I guess it saw my helmet and locked on, but then Iron Man landed and shot it, and said ‘Nice work, kid’.”

 

Holy shit. Holy shit, that was _Peter_? What would have happened if Tony was five seconds later?

 

“He saved your life,” Strange says.

 

“Yeah. Best moment of my life, except Ben grounded me for ages.” Peter’s mouth pulls down at the corners. “I miss him.”

 

“How long has it been since he passed?” Stephen says.

 

“Just a month and a half.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Strange leans forward. “Can I show you something?”

 

“Um, sure.”

 

Strange unfolds his hand and lets sparks bloom around his fingers, twisting and forming into one of his shields.

 

“Woah,” Peter breathes.

 

“So, care to tell me more about Oscorp?”

 

* * *

 

 

Stephen leaves the room looking reassured and nods to Helen. “I agree. Retrograde amnesia caused by the head trauma he suffered.”

 

“So what do we do?” May asks. She’s been chewing her thumbnail for almost half an hour.

 

“Act as normal as possible around him. He’s narrowed the last thing he remembers down to not long after his uncle died, but before Tony entered his life. That means you need to be careful with revealing big events, like his fight with the Vulture, the fact his friend knows he’s Spider-Man, and obviously the fact he died.”

 

“But we should…bring them up?” Tony says.

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

“Retrograde amnesia is usually temporary,” Helen explains. “Exposure to people, objects, events – it all helps immensely.”

 

Tony looks down.

 

“No, Stark,” May says firmly. “Don’t throw yourself a one-man pity party. He needs you.”

 

“He doesn’t even recognise me.”

 

“He will,” Strange says, “but you’ll need to help him get there.”

 

“That’s almost three years’ worth of memories-“

 

“That will come back. The only thing he might never recover is yesterday’s fight.”

 

“Well, I suppose that’s no loss,” Tony mutters. “Can’t you go in there and do some of your…” He wiggles his fingers. “You know?”

 

“The magic thing or the doctor thing?” Strange says drily.

 

“Either. Both. I don’t know.”

 

“Brains are delicate things, Stark. There’s no need to go fiddling around in Peter’s when this will resolve itself.”

 

“What about Maximoff?”

 

“She could help, but suddenly regaining that much information would be hard on anyone, never mind how traumatic some of Peter’s memories are likely to be. The human body is a wonderful creation no matter what you think or believe in, Tony. Let it heal itself.”

 

* * *

 

Helen, Bruce and Strange explain it to Peter calmly and gently, but he just shrugs and says, “I figured.”

 

“Oh?” May says.

 

“Either you were all playing a prank on me, or I was missing something.”

 

“Little genius,” Tony says fondly, before he can stop himself.

 

Peter looks at him with something like awe. It’s so much like the first time they met that Tony wants to cry. “So, yeah. I know Tony Stark?”

 

“Yes, honey,” May says. “He came to our house to tell me he’d accepted your application to a grant. Turns out, he took you to Germany to fight Captain America.”

 

“I fought Captain America? Why would I do that?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony says. “We’re all good now.”

 

May smiles. “You did once tell me that your supervillain origin story would be caused by watching too many of his PSAs.”

 

“I did say that.” Peter smiles back. “And you all know about… _my_ other guy?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Huh. How?”

 

“It’s probably better to let those memories return on their own,” Strange says. “We don’t want to overload you.”

 

“But…” Peter looks frustrated and his eyes fill with tears. “You all know me.” His gaze strays to Tony. “I can’t remember you. It’s not fair!”

 

“I know it seems hard, Peter, but everything will come back to you.”

 

“But how long will that take?”

 

“It can be anywhere from a few days to decades-“

 

“Decades?”

 

“But,” Stephen continues calmly, “that’s not a concern for you. I’d say a few weeks, a couple of months at most. You can go on living your life as normal.”

 

“In the meantime,” Tony says, before he can consider what a potentially terrible idea this could be, “you and your aunt are welcome to stay here. There’s a lot that’s familiar in the Compound, and you’ll obviously have some of the best medical staff in the world.”

 

“If it’s no trouble…” May says.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Then I can use some of my holidays to get off work.”

 

“That’s settled, then.” Tony leaves the room quickly; one more look at Peter’s bewildered expression and his heart is going to shrivel up and die.

 

* * *

 

_“Boss, Peter is calling for you.”_

 

Tony rolls out of bed, trying not to wake Pepper. “Is he awake?”

 

_“He doesn’t appear to be.”_

 

Maybe this is a good sign. Maybe Peter’s subconscious is drawing on something. It’s been three days, after all.

 

Still…

 

“Wake his aunt up too, would you?”

 

_“On it, Boss.”_

 

He meets May just outside Peter’s room, each as tired as the other.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“FRIDAY said he was upset, I don’t-“

 

_“Actually, Boss, I said he was asking for you.”_

 

“You’re unbelievable.”

 

“God, Tony, _you’re_ unbelievable. Why can’t you just accept Peter needs you?”

 

“Because it’s my fault he got hurt!”

 

They probably would have stayed like that in a furious standoff or an even more furious argument if they hadn’t heard a quivering voice from inside the room.

 

“Mr Stark!”

 

May jabs her finger at the door and gestures for Tony to go in.

 

“Really?”

 

She rolls her eyes, hisses, “He needs you,” and all but shoves him inside the room.

 

“Hey! Kid!” Tony crosses to the bed and finds Peter already sitting up, looking pale and tearful. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

Peter throws his arms around him.

 

Tony hugs him back. It’s instinctual, unquestionable that Peter fits in his arms. Even this Peter, this one that doesn’t know him, slots under his chin like he was made to go there.

 

“I had this dream,” Peter mumbles into his chest, his voice shaking with sobs, “and you were there, and Doctor Strange, and this girl with – with freaking antennae, and we were in this…desert? And something was happening and everyone disappeared and I – I-“

 

“I was holding you,” Tony whispers. Of all the fucking things for Peter to remember.

 

“Yeah.” Peter pulls back to look up at Tony. “Mr Stark, you - are you crying?”

 

Tony wipes his face quickly. “Just…don’t like seeing you upset.”

 

“In this dream…I think I died?”

 

God, no. He can’t do this. “That wasn’t a dream, Peter.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Tony sits down on the bed beside him. “That happened. That was a memory.”

 

“But…” Peter shakes his head. “That can’t – did I die?” He sounds so incredibly fragile, and it’s breaking Tony. “And Doctor Strange? But how is he here? How am _I_ here?”

 

“Half of the universe died,” Tony says hoarsely, “and I tore it apart and stitched it back together just to save you, kid.”

 

“I think it hurt.” Peter’s voice wobbles.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Tony says. “If there was anything I’d want you to never remember, it would have been that.”

 

“You were holding me…” Peter rocks back, burying his face in his hands. “How well did you know me then? How well do you know me now?”

 

“Back then, I still – I wasn’t good at telling you how important you were. Now…I know you better than I know myself.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, and Tony’s heart does something funny in his chest. “I’m sorry I can’t remember.”

 

“Don’t apologise. Not for things that aren’t your fault.”

 

Peter crawls across the bed and wraps his arms around Tony again.

 

* * *

 

“Did I crash a plane?”

 

It’s said over breakfast, like he’s asking for the milk. May almost chokes on her coffee.

 

“What makes you say that?” Tony says lightly.

 

“There was a guy with wings and…everything was on fire. I don’t know. You weren’t there.” Peter frowns at Tony; he might as well have stabbed him. “Why weren’t you there?”

 

“Because I’m a shitty person.”

 

“Tony,” May says sharply.

 

“No, May. I didn’t listen to him. I took his suit and he nearly died.”

 

“Stark!” May snaps. Tony looks at her and sees that May Parker is finally tired of his shit. It’s a wonder it hasn’t happened sooner. “This isn’t about you.”

 

She’s right. Of course she’s right. Peter’s watching them both with something like trepidation; he has no idea about the fights May and Tony have had before this, the conversations that go in circles around, “Maybe I shouldn’t be around him,” and, “Can it, Stark. If I really thought that, you’d know about it.”

 

“Um.” Tony clears his throat. “Yes. That was a guy called the Vulture. You tried to warn me, but Cap and I were going through a very public divorce so I wasn’t very supportive. You stopped the guy all by yourself, though.”

 

“Oh.” Peter looks a little happier, but there’s still a hint of resentment in his eyes. “Did anyone get hurt?”

 

“No, because of you.”

 

May strokes Peter’s hair with a smile and breakfast continues.

 

* * *

 

Tony’s walking towards the kitchen a few days later when he hears glass shattering and runs the rest of the way.

 

Peter stands in front of the sink, his face white. He doesn’t even acknowledge Tony when he walks in.

 

“Kid?” Tony says. “Underoos, hey. What’s up?”

 

“He dropped a building on me,” Peter says hoarsely.

 

Oh. Okay, shit.

 

“The Vulture?” Tony steps closer, mindful of the glittering shards all over the floor. “Yeah, he was a dick.”

 

“I couldn’t breathe-“

 

“I know-“

 

Peter’s breathing is speeding up, huffing erratically in and out of his chest. “I was stuck-“

 

“I know, I know, but you got out. You got yourself out.” Tony reaches out before snatching his hands back. “Can I touch you?”

 

Peter nods.

 

“Okay.” He clasps Peter’s face, swiping away the tears starting to spill down his cheeks. “You got yourself out of there, because you are strong and brave and better than you think you are. You didn’t need me there, even though I should’ve been there-“

 

“If you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t have it,” Peter says.

 

Wow, Peter’s brain is _really_ out to give him some kind of abandonment complex. “Oh. You, uh, remember that, too?”

 

“No.” Peter screws up his face. “This is so weird. I remember…remembering, but I don’t remember what I remembered.”

 

“You’ll get it,” Tony says, “and then you’ll have even more good reason to hate me.” Peter’s recovering his memories faster than most amnesia patients, something Helen and Bruce have put down to his accelerated healing, and Tony’s dreading the day Peter recalls how much of an ass he was when they first met.

 

“No, I won’t.”

 

He stops.

 

“It’s confusing, because I have all these memories of you, and being frustrated with you, but…I can see how you are now, and May…doesn’t hate you-“

 

Tony laughs. He can’t help it.

 

“-and I trust her judgment, so…” Peter leans into his hands a little. “Whatever happened is in the past, and – yeah.”

 

“I don’t deserve you, Underoos.”

 

Peter smiles. “Why do you call me that?”

 

Tony considers. “I’m going to let you think it’s cute for a while longer instead of just me being mean.”

 

“What does it mean?”

 

“Nuh-uh. You’ll find out. Now come on, watch out for this glass and I’ll find a dustpan.”

 

“I’m sorry-“

 

“What did I say about apologising for things that aren’t your fault?”

 

“Don’t.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, God,” Peter groans around a slice of pizza. “Ned knows I’m Spider-Man.”

 

“Sure does,” May agrees, not taking her eyes off the television.

 

“I was crawling on the ceiling.”

 

Tony flips through the catalogue advertising baby clothes. “You tend to do that.”

 

“May saw me in my boxers!”

 

“I wasn’t judging.”

 

* * *

 

“Mr Stark! Mr Stark!”

 

Tony drops his screwdriver and races out of the lab. Peter comes hurtling down to corridor and they almost collide, but Tony grabs Peter’s arms to keep him from falling over.

 

“What? What is it?”

 

“I fought Captain America! I stole his shield! That’s so cool!”

 

Tony lays a hand on his chest and tries to calm his shaky breathing. “I’m really happy for you, but I also thought you were dying.”

 

“I am,” Peter announces with a dopey smile on his face, “and I’m completely fine with it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Are either of you actually watching that?” Tony asks when he walks into the lounge. “Or is May just indulging you because you’re pregnant, Pep?”

 

He walks around the couch anyway, fully intent on joining their crap television party, but stops when he sees Peter sitting on the floor at May’s feet, both women’s hands running through his hair.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“I remember coming back,” Peter whispers. He doesn’t turn his head. “It – it was horrible, and you – you nearly died.”

 

Tony clenches his left hand reflexively. “You’re fine, Pete. Kid? Look at me.” He kneels beside Peter, smiling when the kid turns his faraway eyes to him. “That’s it. Good. Look at your hands. They’re real, okay? I’m here, you’re here, and so’s May, Pepper, Baby Stark.” Peter lets out a watery laugh. “You’re fine.”

 

Peter nods. Tony reaches out and smooths down his hair.

 

* * *

 

Strange visits again three months after the fight and manages to hide his surprise very well when Peter tackles him in a hug. “Good to have you back, Parker.”

 

“You were there when I woke up, after…”

 

“I was.” Stephen meets Peter’s eyes and something passes between them for a second.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Tony grins.

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s weird,” Peter says, his feet on Tony’s lap as he hogs the whole couch, “but it wasn’t like memories hitting me in the face all the time. I’d just wake up and be like ‘that seems like something I should be – I should have a reaction to it’, and I wouldn’t remember having a reaction to it the day before. I never realised I’d remembered something; it just appeared, you know?”

 

Tony shrugs, squashed against the arm of the couch while the steadily spreading pile of Peter Parker takes over more and more room.

 

“All that from – what happened again?”

 

“You dived into a wall.”

 

“You make it sound like I did it on purpose.”

 

“Didn’t you?”

 

“I’m not that stupid, Mr Stark!”

 

“Of course not, Underoos. Come on, quick. We need to pick something to watch before Pepper and May get here and commandeer the television.”

 

“I don’t mind watching another chick flick. I can message MJ about it and watch her roll her eyes through the phone.”

 

“Still don’t know how she manages that.” As far as Tony’s concerned, one of Peter’s friends is a hypochondriac and the other is the personification of apathy; they seem to balance each other out.

 

“Mm.” Peter stretches a little more.

 

“Oof. _Jesus_ , Parker.” Tony shifts. “No question you’re back to normal.”

 

“I mean, I think so.”

 

“Good.”

 

They sit in silence for a moment.

 

“Glad you’re back, Underoos.”

 

“Heh. I remember why you started calling me that.”

 

“Think I’m mean yet?”

 

“No, I think it was fair.”

 

“Can I get that in writing?”

 

“No.” Quick as a flash, Peter sits up, spins around, and plonks his head down on Tony’s lap.

 

“Ooh, _God_!”

 

Pepper’s laugh fills the room. “Well, he’s already got one kid using him like a climbing frame.”

 

“Wait, this is a thing?”

 

Peter laughs.

 

“No, seriously? May, wise woman of great parental experience, is this a thing?”

 

“It absolutely is.”

 

“Oh, God.”


	12. amputated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s completely stuck,” Natasha says under her breath. “Kid, can you move it?”
> 
>  
> 
> “No!”
> 
>  
> 
> “No way to get his leg out?” Steve says.
> 
>  
> 
> “Not before the rest of this comes down on our heads. It’s wedged tight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, everyone who's commented has been so lovely and i appreciate you all so much.
> 
> warnings for a tiny mention of a panic attack, but nothing graphic.

“Are you okay?”

 

Peter glances up at Mr Stark with a frown. It’s just a mission; he’s been on loads of them at this point.

 

“In that suit, I mean.”

 

“Oh.” Peter looks down at his Iron Spider suit again. It’s cold against his skin, unfamiliar. “Yeah. I – I think I’m good, thank you, Mr Stark.”

 

“I have your other one if you need it. Just say the word.”

 

What did he do to deserve Mr Stark? “Thank you.”

 

Mr Stark dithers for a second before clapping a hand on Peter’s shoulder and saying, “I’m proud of you.”

 

Peter’s not. It’s been months, almost a year, since the world was fixed, and this is the first time he’s worn the suit since he’d arrived back in Wakanda via Wizard Portal Travel.

 

But he smiles and ducks his head anyway, because he really does feel okay in this suit. About time.

 

Sometimes he moves and it rests on his skin in a certain way, just familiar enough to remind him of that day, but he pushes it down. He’s freaked out enough over this suit, and Mr Stark had worked so hard on it – it was supposed to be for his seventeenth birthday. The least Peter can do is wear it.

 

Natasha straps yet another knife sheath to her arm and shakes her head. “Look at you two in your matching suits.”

 

“Five minutes, guy!” Clint calls from the cockpit.

 

It’s a simple mission: weapons dealers are hiding out in the Alaska Range outside Anchorage, and the team is being sent to take them in.

 

“Why can’t your guys do this?” Mr Stark had asked the government aide, his voice flat and his face unimpressed. “The Avengers aren’t your private army.”

 

The aide tapped his clipboard with one finger; it was impossible to tell if he was nervous or annoyed. “These aren’t your everyday kind of weapons, Mr Stark.”

 

“This one has a better heater,” Mr Stark says, “which I expect you to use, you hear me? Mountains are cold this time of year, and we both know you’re terrible at staying warm.”

 

“This is a direct attack on my character.”

 

“No, it’s an attack on your severe lack of homeostasis.” Mr Stark ruffles his hair.

 

“Calling it now,” Sam says. “When the baby comes, Pepper’s the cool parent and Tony’s the helicopter dad.”

 

“He already is,” Wanda says.

 

Steve shakes his head at them, looking like he wants to laugh but settles for an exasperated grin. They’re all used to Tony’s fussing by now. “Focus up, guys.”

 

It never fails to amaze Peter how quickly everyone goes quiet and disciplined.

 

“Approaching the drop zone!” Clint says, standing and walking towards the door at the back of the Quinjet. “She’s on autopilot.”

 

Peter climbs onto Mr Stark’s back. “Join, Karen.”

 

The nanites in both their suits shift so they’re fused together. Everyone else finds their partner, making sure each pair has someone who can fly: Natasha and Wanda; Clint and Rhodey; Steve and Sam.

 

“Ready?” Clint opens the doors and lets Rhodey grab him under the arms.

 

Peter nods and his mask folds over his head.

 

“Go!”

 

* * *

 

 

The fight is simple enough at first. The gang is taken by surprise and scatter quickly. Peter ends up fighting on the ground with Steve and Natasha, giving them a higher vantage point and webbing up anyone he sees trying to escape down the mountain trails.

 

“Seriously, guys!” he calls. “I don’t know where you think you’re going. It’s just ice and snow for miles.”

 

What kind of secret weapons ring sets up camp in the ass end of nowhere? Peter supposes it’s a good way to make sure no one stumbles across you accidentally.

 

They start to regroup, though, getting over their initial panic, and their weapons are something else. Sam barely dodges a pulse of energy aimed into the sky. Steve blocks something similar with his shield and goes flying.

 

Peter hops up a rock face. “Guys?” he calls down to Steve and Natasha. “They’re circling around us – we’re backed against this cliff.”

 

“Shit,” Natasha says. “Stay up there as long as you’re not too exposed. Be our eyes.”

 

“Okay, got it.” Something cold tickles the back of Peter’s neck, even with his suit heater on full blast. He whips his head around, looking for the danger, but he can’t see anything.

 

Except maybe that one guy, aiming something that looks like a cannon at him. He drops a little lower, narrowing his eyes; the guy doesn’t adjust his aim.

 

He’s not aiming for Peter. He’s aiming for the mountainside.

 

“Get down!” Peter flings himself off the icy rock and tackles Natasha to the ground, his spider legs cushioning their fall. Steve puts his shield up.

 

A wall of ice and snow crashes down around them.

 

* * *

 

 

 _“Get down!”_ Peter yells and Tony dives lower on instinct.

 

“What was that?” He gets no answer. “Kid?”

 

Nothing except for a deep rumbling sound and then silence.

 

He waits for Steve to call for the team to check in, and then realises he last saw Peter fighting with Steve and Natasha. Crap.

 

_“Uhh.”_

 

 _“Was that Nat?”_ Clint says sharply. _“You okay?”_

 

 _“Is Steve with you?”_ Sam says.

 

 _“Hello?”_ Natasha says _. “Hello, anyone?”_

 

 _“You can’t hear them either?”_ Steve’s voice says.

 

_“Comms are dead. Shit.”_

 

Tony blasts yet another ridiculously oversized gun. “Romanoff, Rogers? Is Peter with you?”

 

_“Tony, their comms are down.”_

 

“But we can still hear them.”

 

_“Well, they obviously can’t hear us.”_

 

 _“Um, guys?”_ If he never hears Peter sound that concerned ever again, he can die happy.

 

 _“What is it?”_ Natasha says _. “Oh…shit.”_

_“Oh, crap,”_ Steve agrees.

 

 _“What do we do?”_ Peter’s voice is high and shaky, teetering on the edge of panic. _“I really,_ really _don’t like being trapped under things. Just so you know.”_

_“It’s completely stuck,”_ Natasha says under her breath. _“Kid, can you move it?”_

_“No!”_

_“No way to get his leg out?”_ Steve says.

 

 _“Not before the rest of this comes down on our heads. It’s wedged tight.”_ Natasha breaks off into a grunt of effort.

 

Peter lets out a shaky breath. _“You guys should go-“_

 

 _“No,”_ Steve shouts at the same time as Tony yells, “Dammit, Parker!”

 

He knows they can’t hear him, but his anxiety is spilling over.

 

 _“We can’t get out anyway, but you can’t stay like that, either.”_ Steve sounds like he’s doing his Thinking Face. It should be noted that his Thinking Face is almost indistinguishable from his Captain Face _. “It’s going to have to come off, son.”_

 

What is? Peter’s leg? What?

 

Tony glances at his display again. “Wilson, Rhodey, any luck?

 

 _“Nothing,_ ” Rhodey says. _“You heard that, right?”_

 

“I wish I hadn’t.”

 

Natasha sighs. _“How are we going to do this?”_

_“Carefully, preferably,”_ Peter says. There is no way the kid is that calm about this; he must be in shock, and that just makes Tony even more desperate to find him.

 

 _“I can use the shield?”_ Steve says.

 

Tony’s heart feels like it’s trying to jump out of his throat. He listens for anything else from the others, as much as he’s afraid to hear it, but nothing comes through.

 

 _“Think their comms are down completely?”_ Wanda says.

 

_“I’d say so.”_

 

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit-“

 

_“Calm down, Tony.”_

 

“Calm down?”

 

 _“They’ll keep the kid safe,”_ Rhodey says.

 

“Does that sound _safe_ to you?”

 

 _“Okay, it sounds like they might have gotten buried.”_ Rhodey’s voice is calm. _“FRIDAY, can you find any recent disturbances? Any changes in the shape of the mountain?”_

_“Checking, Colonel Rhodes.”_

 

“Oh, God,” Tony groans. How badly is Peter hurt? He can’t lose him again, he can’t-

 

_“Look, we nearly have the last of these guys handled, and then we can look for them.”_

 

“What if we’re too late? What if he’s badly hurt, or-?”

 

_“Tony? Breathe.”_

 

He tries, he really does, but he’s bordering on the edge of a panic attack by the time Sam pronounces the situation clear and Clint shouts through the comms.

 

_“Here! Wanda’s found them.”_

 

Tony rolls and dives to where Clint’s tracker is showing in his HUD. Wanda is standing in front of a freshly settled pile of snow and rocks, red tendrils of light probing around it.

 

“Is it safe to move?” Sam lands behind him, closely followed by Rhodey.

 

“It should be; it seems stable.” Wanda pulls her red light back in and wraps it around a large boulder. “If I get this…out of the way…” She lets out a grunt. “We should be able to get them out.”

 

Tony bounces on his feet, his heart thumping in his chest. He’s supposed to look after Peter. He’s supposed to be the one who makes sure nothing like this ever happens.

 

With a gasp of effort, Wanda rolls the rock out of the way and sets about clearing the ice to make the hole wider.

 

“Peter?” Tony forces himself through the gap. He’s not at all prepared for what he’s going to find, but this is Peter. It’s not even a question that in Tony’s head that he’s going to look after the kid. “Peter!”

 

But what if Peter’s badly hurt, or traumatised, or-?

 

He expects Steve and Natasha to come stumbling forward, supporting an unconscious Peter, or maybe even to find Peter still trapped.

 

He doesn’t expect Peter to come bounding towards him with a grin splitting his face. “Mr Stark!”

 

“Hey!” Tony lets out a huff as Peter slams into his chest and wraps his arms around him. The kid’s in one piece; he checks. “You’re okay? What-?”

 

“Yes, I’m okay!” Peter says cheerfully. A little too cheerfully. “Let’s focus on that instead of, you know, anything else.”

 

“But…your leg-? We could hear you for a while-“

 

“Oh, crap,” Peter mutters. “Look, please don’t be mad, but I shielded Natasha for a second and one of my legs got stuck-“

 

“Are you hurt?” Tony pulls back and does another once-over. Had he missed something the first time? “How bad? Steve said he thought he had to-“ He chokes on the thought.

 

Peter frowns for a second before his eyes go impossibly, comically wide. “Oh. Oh! Mr Stark, it was one of my spider legs!”

 

“…what?”

 

“From the suit?” Peter worries his bottom lip. “It got stuck under the ice and I couldn’t retract it again. Steve broke it off.”

 

“A suit leg,” Tony repeats.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know they’re vibranium and nanotech and probably super expensive-“

 

Tony opens his mouth and closes it again.

 

“Are you mad? You look mad.”

 

“I thought your leg was crushed! I thought I was about to invent a wall-crawling prosthetic!”

 

“I’m fine!” Peter says quickly. “I didn’t realise you could hear us-“

 

Tony yanks him into a tight hug. “Don’t scare me like that!”

 

At what point did he decide that having another kid was going to be a fun experience? It’s just going to be this amount of stress to the power of ten.

 

Except now, with Peter warm and safe and breathing and _alive_ in his arms, he’s calming down quicker than he ever thought possible.

 

“I’m sorry!” Peter says again, but he’s definitely laughing, the little shit. “I honestly didn’t realise – we thought we were just talking to ourselves.”

 

“Yeah, yourselves and my anxiety. Jesus. You thought I’d be mad about the _suit_?”

 

“It’s only the second time I’ve worn it.”

 

“Kid. A suit is replaceable. You are not.”

 

Peter nods against his shoulder. Sam splutters out a cough that sounds suspiciously like, “Overbearing dad.”

 

 _Okay, yes_ , Tony thinks as he releases Peter. Maybe he is, and maybe he’s fine with it.

 

Steve and Natasha follow them out, just as unscathed as Peter is, and Tony is struck with what a wonderful relief it is to have worried about nothing.

 

“Okay.” Steve slings his shield on his back like he wasn’t just trapped in an ice cave with a kid and an assassin; you have to love the guy. “How’s the situation out here?”

 

“Locked down. We just need to get these guys on the transport that’s coming in…” Clint checks his watch. “Now. Hope everyone can remember where they hid their treasure.”

 

Peter groans. “My webs blend in with the snow. They never do that in Queens.”

 

Tony can’t help but laugh. “Serves you right, city boy.”

 

“Now _that_ is a direct attack on my character.”

 

“But entirely deserved.” Tony pulls Peter closer one more time – feels him safe, breathing, alive – before sending him off with a pat on his shoulder. “Now go collect your bad guys so we can get you back to your natural habitat.”

 

“Okay!”

 

“Don’t forget you only have seven legs!”

 

“More than you!”

 

And if Tony watches Peter’s tracker in his display until they’re both safely back on the Quinjet, what about it?

 

So what if he finds a guy with a sonic cannon that could definitely destabilise parts of the mountainside and cuffs him a little tighter than necessary?

 

So what if he pulls Peter against his side as Clint takes off and lets the kid nod off on his shoulder?

 

His brain keeps chanting _safe breathing alive_ and it’s calming because it’s true.

 

So what if he leans forward to press his lips against the top of Peter’s head before closing his eyes, too?


	13. anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter glances between the robber, the cashier and the customer, edging his young daughter behind him, and all he can see is Ben.
> 
>  
> 
> So he swings through the window without a second thought and tackles the guy to the ground with one punch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, i wrote at least half of this while i was drunk. it's thursday night. take from that what you will.
> 
> warnings for armed robbery

It’s a normal patrol night. Peter crouches on the edge of an office block, drinking in the sounds of the city below. Sometimes it gets too loud, but tonight he’s found the perfect spot to watch and listen to the people, the traffic, without overloading his senses.

 

New York is beautiful. He can’t see the stars, but the city is its own galaxy, a dizzying myriad of light and dark.

 

“Okay, Peter,” he says to himself with a laugh, “time to start running an aesthetic blog on Tumblr.”

 

_“I have created a new side blog on your current login. What would you like the URL to be?”_

 

“Karen, no! It was a joke.”

 

_“Cancelling side blog.”_

 

“ _Thank_ you.”

 

_“Where are we going tonight, Peter?”_

 

“Got anything good for me?”

 

Peter must be cursed, because as soon as he says that, a gunshot splits the background noise of the streets below.

 

“Okay, where the hell did that come from?”

 

_“A block behind you.”_

 

“Got it.” Peter leaps off the building and flips midair to shoot a web. He swings around and lands on the sidewalk just outside a twenty-four hour corner store.

 

Through the window, he can see the cashier cowering as a masked guy waves a gun in his face. A customer is hiding behind a row of shelves.

 

“Okay, what’s the best way to do this?”

 

_“I would advise caution, given the presence of a firearm.”_

 

“Fine, Karen. Call 911.”

 

_“The police have been notified.”_

 

“Good.”

 

“I said get the money out!” the man with the gun yells.

 

“What the hell, dude?”

 

“That was just a warning shot, you got it? The next one is killin’ someone.”

 

“You’re fucking crazy, man,” the cashier yelps. “Someone definitely heard that and called the police.”

 

“More than enough time for you to be dead before they get here. Get the cash out.”

 

“This is why we need gun laws in this stupid country,” Peter mutters.

 

The cashier opens the register with shaking hands. The customer tries to edge towards the door.

 

“Don’t even fucking think about leaving until I’m gone,” the robber warns.

 

“Okay,” the customer says, turning to someone Peter can’t see behind the shelf. “We’ll be fine, honey. Just stay still, okay?”

 

“There’s a kid?” Peter hisses. He shifts position and catches sight of a little girl hiding behind the man.

 

Peter glances between the robber, the cashier and the customer, edging his young daughter behind him, and all he can see is Ben.

 

So he swings through the window without a second thought and tackles the guy to the ground with one punch.

 

One punch doesn’t seem like enough.

 

He hits the guy again, ripping his gun from his hand and throwing it through the shattered window.

 

“Fuck, I’m sorry!” The robber throws his hands up to protect his face. “You got me!”

 

Peter doesn’t care. “You wanna point a gun at innocent people? You’re a piece of shit!”

 

It dawns on him, at some point, that the man has stopped moving and the people in the store are staring at him in shock.

 

Blue lights flash, sirens wail, and Peter hops out of the window and swings himself away.

 

He doesn’t pick a direction, just shoots his webs and hopes they hit something.

 

He can’t go home. He can’t face May, not when Ben dying is fresh in his mind again and it was all his fault.

 

He pauses on top of an apartment building, takes a second to orient himself, and takes off towards the Compound.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell and fuck, Parker?”

 

 _Not right now_. Peter shakes his head and storms down the corridor to his room, hoping Mr Stark takes the hint.

 

“Get back here! I’m talking to you!”

 

Apparently not. “I’m really not in the mood, Mr Stark.”

 

“You know who else isn’t in the mood? The police commissioner, who, instead of a suspect for armed robbery, has an emergency room patient!”

 

“Good!” Peter can’t stop himself. Anger was already simmering underneath his skin, but Mr Stark’s tone just lights a match and sets it burning. “That’s what you should get when you wave a gun in people’s faces. That’s what I do, right? I look out for the little guy?”

 

“He has a broken nose, a broken jaw, three fractured ribs and a missing tooth,” Mr Stark lists off, his voice flat.

 

Part of Peter winces, but most of him is still raging even as he faces Mr Stark through his bedroom door.

 

“What the _hell_ were you thinking?”

 

Peter doesn’t reply, just glares at the wall behind Mr Stark’s head.

 

“You know, you’re damn lucky the Accords aren’t a thing anymore. NYPD is gonna be all over my ass as it is. You are an Avenger; that means you represent all of us with your little random acts of violence.”

 

“Just leave it alone, Mr Stark.” This is Peter’s problem, his baggage, his fault.

 

“I can’t just leave it alone, kid? What the hell happened? You beat a guy half to death for robbing a corner store.”

 

“If you actually knew me, you’d know why I did that!”

 

“Well, I don’t know!” Mr Stark shouts. “I’m asking you to tell me why you put this guy in the hospital instead of leaving him for the police!”

 

“Why do you even care?” Peter yells back. “You’re not my dad!”

 

The words hang in the air between them, unable to be taken back. You can’t kill an idea, can’t kill the seed of a thought once it’s been planted. Words spoken in anger are still spoken out loud.

 

“No,” Mr Stark says, and somehow his quiet voice is worse than shouting. His face is completely blank. “No, I’m not.”

 

And he turns and walks out of the room, leaving Peter feeling like a cold stone is lodged in his gut.

 

* * *

 

Tony stands outside Peter's room, trying to control his breathing. He's not even sure if it's rage or panic anymore.

 

Okay. _Wow_.

 

No. He can’t be upset. He has _no right_ to be upset.

 

Peter’s right. He’s not. He’s not the kid’s dad. He’d overstepped a boundary, filled a spot without even asking for permission. It’s not his place to yell like that; that’s what Howard used to do.

 

Peter can do much better than him, anyway.

 

Was he right to tell Peter off? As a team leader, maybe, but he should have taken a calmer approach. The shock of cold fear he’d had at the police commissioner’s phone call had fermented over the time it had taken Peter to get to the Compound, firing up a hot anger in his stomach.

 

The kid’s attitude hadn’t helped either – but who the hell was he to be complaining about that? Parents talked about ‘attitude’ and ‘backchat’. Peter had made it very clear he didn’t see Tony like that.

 

Fine. If the kid wants him to, he’ll take a step back. It’s going to kill him to do it, but he’d rather Peter be happy than him.

 

It’s for the best.

 

* * *

 

“Hi,” Peter says awkwardly. “Um…”

 

“You want to talk?”

 

Peter nods. He’s found his way to the lab after breakfast, trepidation swirling in his gut. Maybe he should have brought coffee as a peace offering.

 

“Come in.” Mr Stark is awkward too; it used to be easy, effortless, for Peter to gravitate towards him, but he’s closed off now.

 

“I-“

 

“Kid, I’m sorry-“

 

They stop, wait, smile weakly.

 

“Go on,” Mr Stark says.

 

“I wanted to say I’m sorry about yesterday. You were right, I lost it with that guy – it just…it reminded me of when Ben died, and…yeah.”

 

“Oh, kid.” Mr Stark’s hands twitch like he wants to reach out but stops himself, like he doesn’t want to hug Peter. “I didn’t know. I wish you’d said.”

 

They’re back to _kid_. No _Pete_ , no _Underoos_. Peter needs to fix this.

 

“I’m sorry if it causes you any problems – like with the police or anything. I wasn’t thinking. And…” He has to do this. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”

 

“Oh.” Mr Stark frowns. “But – oh. I mean – you were right, too. I’m not – not that, and I had no right to act like it. You’re completely allowed to, to set down boundaries if you want-“

 

Peter can’t help the way his mouth pulls down at the corners. “You don’t want-?”

 

“Only if you don’t want it.”

 

This is so awkward. Peter just wants it to be over. “I – I do. I was mad. I didn’t mean it last night, Mr Stark.”

 

The problem is that this has always been an unspoken thing, assumed but never confirmed. Trying to put it into words is confusing at best, mortifying at worst.

 

“I know, Pete.” Mr Stark’s voice is gentler and when he reaches out this time, he puts his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “You know I only get mad because I worry, right?”

 

“I know. And if you think about me like – like a dad, that’s okay. Because I kind of think about you the same way, I think.”

 

“Oh.” Mr Stark relaxes and tries not to smile, but he does anyway. “Good.”

 

Peter leans into his hold a little more as they as they sink onto the couch in the corner of the lab. “I’m sorry about that guy.”

 

“You can’t let your emotions get the better of you like that. You know that, right?”

 

“It won’t happen again. It just – if I ever saw the guy who shot Ben again, I’d be so angry-“ Peter closes his eyes.

 

“I get it,” Mr Stark says. “When Steve and I fell out – yeah, you know what it was about. Not good. If you ever want to talk about it, kid, I’m right here.”

 

“I know,” Peter says again. “Thank you.”

 

The last of his anger dissolves away. The robber is suddenly irrelevant; he’s dealt with. He can’t hurt anyone again.

 

Ben might be gone, but Peter has Mr Stark, and that’s better than he ever expected to have again.

 

Is he allowed to have this? He thinks so.


	14. fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We can’t let the plane land in the city!” Mr Stark yells. “We have to try and turn it, and then we can get the case out.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Okay!”
> 
>  
> 
> “And Coney Island is not an option this time.”
> 
>  
> 
> “That was one time! One!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy international fanworks day! i can't believe i'm halfway through these prompts.
> 
> okay, fun story: i spent my breaks between lectures happily typing the prompt out before i realised i was writing tomorrow's prompt, so that's why this a bit late, but at least i have a head start on tomorrow!

_“Parker!”_ Mr Stark’s voice rings through the Compound, helped by FRIDAY projecting him into just about every room. _“Meeting room!”_

 

“Coming!” Peter shoves the rest of his toast in his mouth and bolts.

 

Mr Stark is in the room Steve likes to use for briefings with a tablet in one hand. He glances up when Peter hurtles in the door.

 

“What’s up?”

 

Mr Stark rolls his eyes and taps the tablet on the main screen. An aerial map appears of New York State, along with what looks like a flight path heading south. “SHIELD, be they ever so competent, have lost control of one of their automated planes. They’ve extrapolated its flight path, and it’s going to crash, bang in the middle of Brooklyn.”

 

“Shit,” Peter says.

 

“Shit, indeed. Now, SHIELD, be they _ever_ so prepared,” Mr Stark continues, irony thick in his tone, “have no one available to scramble that could get to it in time. Guess who can?”

 

“Lucky us.”

 

“You got it. Right, SHIELD have told me there’s an important briefcase in this plane. I don’t know what’s in it, because I didn’t ask, and they probably wouldn’t tell me if I did. All I know is they want it in one piece.”

 

“Always wanted to be in Pulp Fiction.”

 

“You’re such a nerd,” Mr Stark says in despair. “Okay, I’m thinking I’ll be able to turn the plane – it looks small enough – and I can ditch it in the ocean instead of New York. You are going to get inside and get their oh-so-important briefcase. Got it?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good. Suit up, kid.”

 

“Wait, what? Just me?”

 

“Well, no one else is here,” Mr Stark says, completely deadpan, “and, you know, you’re not horrible company.”

 

Peter gasps and puts his hands on his heart. “Mr Stark! I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!”

 

“No, the nicest thing I’ve ever said to you is when I told you I didn’t hate you.”

 

“I’m so honoured.”

 

“Yeah, you should be.” Mr Stark breaks, a grin splitting his face, and he shakes his head. “Come on, quick. If we hurry, we’ll be able to get it as it flies overhead.”

 

* * *

 

Peter remembers when Ben used to give him piggybacks around the apartment when he was younger. He feels awful for thinking it, but Mr Stark’s piggybacks are so much cooler.

 

He waits a second to make sure Peter’s secure – “I have sticky powers, Mr Stark.” – and then he’s firing his boot jets and shooting into the sky.

 

Peter yells in sheer exhilaration. Sure, he’s been carried by Mr Stark before, but never anything like this.

 

_“Parker? Hurting my ears.”_

 

“Why do you ever stop doing this?” Peter shouts over the wind whipping past his face. “Why aren’t you flying all the time?”

 

_“Because Pepper gets mad.”_

 

“Okay, valid.”

 

_“Boss, Peter, the plane is directly above you.”_

_“Thanks, FRIDAY.”_ Mr Stark puts on a last burst of speed and catches up to the plane.

 

It’s small, no bigger than the two-seaters that sometimes potter around the airspace near the Compound. It’s almost completely silent, painted a dark grey, and it has no windows or cockpit.

 

 _“Okay, kid.”_ Mr Stark grabs the wing to stay with it _. “I’m going to cut it open, so you get inside and get the case.”_

 

“Got it!”

 

Mr Stark aims his laser and starts to carve out a circle large enough for Peter to slip through. _“In you go!”_

 

Peter unsticks one hand from the Iron Man suit and carefully lays it on the plane chassis, making sure it’s stuck before doing the same with the other one.

 

 _“Gonna try and turn it.”_ Mr Stark grabs the underbelly of the plane and starts pushing against it. _“It’s not shifting, FRIDAY!”_

_“I can’t explain it, Boss. It’s like it’s fighting you.”_

_“Pete? Leave the case for a second and help me turn this thing.”_

 

“What’s happening?”

 

 _“We can’t let it land in the city!”_ Mr Stark yells _. “We have to try and turn it, and then we can get the case out.”_

 

“Okay!”

 

_“And Coney Island is not an option this time.”_

 

“That was _one time_! One!”

 

_“And I still wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it. No, once we have the case, we can ditch it in the sea.”_

 

Peter crawls up the side of the plane and slides onto the wing. “Which way is the sea?”

 

_“East!”_

 

“What way is that!?”

 

 _“Left!”_ Mr Stark shouts.

 

Peter slides onto the left wing and shoots a web at the right wingtip. “Hey, Mr Stark? Remember the last time I was on a plane like this?”

 

_“Trying very hard not to think about it, Peter!”_

 

Peter laughs despite the wind whipping in his face and yanks on the web with all his strength.

 

FRIDAY’s right; the plane is fighting them. Even with Mr Stark pushing from one side and Peter forcing it to bank from the other, it judders like it physically can’t change course. Which is weird, because according to SHIELD, it already has.

 

 _“This plane – does not – want – to cooperate,”_ Mr Stark grunts.

 

“Wait, wait wait wait – I think we’re getting it!” Peter leans back, putting all his weight on the tip of the left wing and pulling on his web.

 

There’s a second when it seems like the plane is turning, dipping its left wing and banking in the direction Mr Stark is pushing.

 

And then it jerks back so the wings are level, catapulting Peter up and over the plane.

 

It’s almost comically graceful, a perfect arc on the end of his web.

 

Mr Stark yells his name. The web snaps free. Peter starts to fall.

 

* * *

 

“Peter!”

 

Tony watches him fall with a cold shock of horror. One hand reaches uselessly for his kid, too late.

 

He has to catch him.

 

 _“Karen, parachute!”_ Peter’s voice makes him pause, sigh in relief. The kid can look after himself. _“What do you mean?”_

 

There’s no fucking parachute in that suit.

 

Peter deployed it two days ago, training with Sam and Rhodey. Tony fucking forgot to put the parachute back in the suit.

 

“There’s no parachute.” Tony’s thoughts spill over into panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, there’s no – I never-“ He never replaced it. “Fucking stupid!”

 

_“Boss, the plane is resisting your attempts to change its course. If you let go, it will still impact the city.”_

 

“But-“

 

Tony looks between the plane and the city in the distance, and makes a decision.

 

He peels away, feeling the plane shudder as it readjusts its course, and dives towards Peter’s beacon on his HUD.

 

“Peter? Peter!”

 

_“Mr Stark!”_

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming, kid. I’m gonna catch you, I promise I’m gonna catch you.” For a second, he’s lost in another time, another Peter falling from the sky, another Tony promising to catch him. “FRIDAY, boosters.”

 

He shoots towards the ground faster than should be possible, zeroing in on the little red dot in his display.

 

Why did he tell Peter to wear the Iron Spider? It doesn’t have the wingsuit attachment under the arms.

 

Peter’s spiralling towards the ground frighteningly quickly, a blur of red and blue and gold.

 

 _Like Rhodey._ Tony shivers at the memory and reaches out for his kid.

 

He didn’t catch Rhodey, but he catches Peter. Or rather, Peter catches him.

 

A web shoots out and hits Tony’s outstretched hand. Peter yanks on it and suddenly he’s flying up and into Tony’s chest. Tony wraps his arms around him and pulls him close. They’re both breathing heavily; he can feel Peter’s panicked gasps even though his armour.

 

“We are,” Tony gets out, “setting a reminder to replace your parachute. Daily fucking reminder, got it?”

 

Peter nods shakily.

 

“Okay.” Tony starts to fly back towards where the plane is, but he takes a moment to press his forehead to Peter’s. “Okay, plane.”

 

The plane isn’t where it’s supposed to be.

 

“FRIDAY?”

 

_“It’s altered its course on its own.”_

 

“Are you fucking kidding me? After all that?”

 

_“I’m afraid so.”_

 

Peter laughs. It’s breathless and scared but it’s the best thing Tony thinks he’s ever heard.

 

“Where’s it heading?” Tony switches his flight to the path FRIDAY highlights for him.

 

The plane comes into view again, but there’s a dark figure crawling through the hole Tony had made for Peter.

 

 _“Okay…”_ Peter says through the comms, _“that’s not suspicious at all.”_

_“Boss, I’m detecting interference with the plane’s navigation systems.”_

_“Yup. Definitely suspicious.”_

 

“Your powers of deduction are blowing my mind, kid. FRIDAY, can you block it?”

 

_“What do you think I’ve been doing?”_

 

“Okay, no, thank you. I can only handle one of you sassing me at once.” He lands on top of the plane. “Right, new plan: I get inside and wrestle Mr Dark and Mysterious for the equally mysterious briefcase, and you web him up. Then, rather than trying to redirect the plane again, we just blow it.”

 

_“Right.”_

 

It goes well for about ten seconds, until they crawl through the hole and the guy dodges the first punch Tony throws him and kicks Peter in the chest hard enough to send him sailing back out of the hole.

 

Has Peter really just fallen out of this fucking plane again?

 

“Come on.” He punches the guy again and snatches the briefcase. “I really like that kid!”

 

_“That’s the new nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!”_

 

Peter doesn’t sound panicked or even particularly worried, so Tony frowns and focuses on holding down the high-altitude thief. “Uh, kid? You good?”

 

 _“I’m good!”_ Peter says happily. _“Just come pick me up when you’re done! Uh, literally.”_

 

Tony rolls his eyes and pulls the unconscious guy out of the hole in the side of the plane. “Where are you?”

 

He glances down and sees Peter dangling from the plane’s belly by two webs, doing the aerial equivalent of water-skiing.

 

_“Hey!”_

 

“Time to switch rides, Underoos.”

 

Peter shoots one web and then another so he’s hanging from Tony’s ankles. _“Got the case?”_

 

“Right here. FRIDAY?”

 

_“Aiming missile.”_

 

“Time to go.” Tony dives away from the plane, wincing at Peter’s excited whoop in his ear. FRIDAY fires a rocket with perfect accuracy and the plane explodes in an oddly delicate little fireball.

 

 _“That was awesome!”_ Peter cheers.

 

“Speak for yourself,” Tony says. “Okay, let’s get this guy to the Compound and SHIELD can pick him and their case up. I’ve had enough of doing their jobs for them.”

 

_“Good plan.”_

 

“No. No, you have no concept of a good plan, kid.”

 

_“Rude.”_

 

“‘Rude’ is you nearly falling to your death twice in five minutes.”

 

 _“I knew you’d catch me,”_ Peter says. _“You always do.”_

 

“Only because you make me by doing stupid shit.” He’s lying. Peter can tell he’s lying, because he laughs. “Okay, fine. Yes, I’ll always catch you, kid.”

 

_“I know.”_

 

He’s really glad they’re both in such a ridiculous position, because he’s been terrified twice today and that’s about the extent of his emotions.

 

“Okay, let’s get you home before your aunt decides I’m a bad babysitter.”

 

_“You mean…back to the Compound?”_

 

“Yeah. Home.”


	15. betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Seriously though, you good? Europe okay?”
> 
>  
> 
> Peter could just spill everything right now. It’s on the tip of his tongue, except…he has Mysterio, right? Mr Stark can have a break from babysitting Peter; he has his own baby on the way.
> 
>  
> 
> “Seriously.” He plasters a fake smile on his face. “I’m good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains some speculation on far from home, including some dialogue and characters from the trailer, so skip this if you're trying to avoid spoilers. if not, enjoy!

“You know,” Mr Stark had said, “I don’t know if I’m happy with this field trip to Europe.”

 

"It's not a field trip, Mr Stark. Just the Decathlon team going on holiday together, even though some of us are now four years younger than the others."

 

"Hm."

 

Peter had understood the underlying message of, ‘We haven’t been more than an hour apart since I got you back’ and, ‘What if something happens and I’m not there?’

 

But out loud he’d said, “Don’t worry about it, Mr Stark. It’s just a little vacation. Spend some time with Pepper now she’s on maternity leave.”

 

“Yeah, finally. I was half-worried she’d be giving birth and still trying to head a board meeting.”

 

And Peter had laughed and Mr Stark’s concerns were forgotten and he had messaged MJ to say he was coming.

 

Of course, SHIELD couldn’t just let him go, could they? Yes, he’s an Avenger, but he’s also a high school student with friends, and he really doesn’t appreciate them being shot in the neck by the man ostensibly in charge of the Avengers who spends half his life pretending to be dead.

 

“Nice to finally meet you…Spider-Man.”

 

“You’re Nick Fury.” Peter isn’t surprised the man knows his name, but he is surprised he’s sitting on a bed in a budget hotel shooting darts at innocent college students.

 

“Nice of you to take yourself over to Europe. Saves us the air fare.”

 

“I’m off-duty,” Peter says. Mr Stark is going to be livid when he hears about this.

 

Nick Fury just raises his good eyebrow. “You’re an Avenger, Parker. I decide when you’re off-duty.” He stands, clearly expecting people to follow him. “Oh. If you tell Stark about this…well, I wouldn’t.”

 

So he leaves the hotel, only stopping to throw some clothes on and to make sure Ned isn’t going to suffocate in his sleep. He’s hustled into a car and then onto a boat, feeling very much like a prisoner rather than a hero.

 

At some point, he remembers. “I don’t have my suit. Either of them.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” is the only response he gets.

 

He meets Maria Hill, who’s only slightly less terrifying than Fury, and they bundle him underground and into what is definitely the coolest secret base Peter has ever seen.

 

“Wicked,” he breathes. He almost forgets to be afraid, except for his spidey sense prickling the back of his neck and Mr Stark’s words ringing in his ears.

 

_“SHIELD try, I think. They do try to help people, but they have this ‘greater good’ philosophy, and that often comes at the expense of the people they surround themselves with.”_

 

They give him two new suits and an hour-long briefing about some honestly horrifying monsters that are appearing in random cities across Europe, and Fury’s expression warns him there’s no way to say no to this.

 

As if Peter would ever say no when people are in trouble. As if he _could_.

 

* * *

 

The water monster honestly takes him by surprise, and he’s sure it’s going to drown him when Less Hot Thor arrives and does his Doctor Strange bullshit.

 

“You don’t want any part of this,” he warns, like Peter isn’t already part of it. Still, the note of concern in the man’s voice takes him by surprise.

 

The next time SHIELD take him to a secret headquarters, this time under a canal, the weird guy is there. He looks comically out of place in his cape and armour but he eyes Peter like he’s the outsider.

 

“Spider-Man,” Fury says, “this is Mysterio. As you know, he has a way to fight these…things.”

 

“Elementals,” Mysterio says, and he has a surprisingly pleasant voice when he’s not yelling across a street.

 

“Those.”

 

“Oh,” Peter says. His senses are tingling, but they always do around SHIELD. “Thanks for your help yesterday.”

 

“Well, I didn’t realise you were Spider-Man.” Mysterio claps Peter on the shoulder, right where Mr Stark normally rests his hand. “Makes a lot more sense, you facing down the Elemental like that. You got guts, kid.”

 

Suddenly, Peter doesn’t miss Mr Stark as much.

 

* * *

 

May video calls him from the Compound when she’s there to visit Pepper, and hands him over to Mr Stark with a gracious smile. Mr Stark panics a little about the strange creatures he’s seen on the news, but assures Peter that SHIELD are on the scene and are handling it.

 

 _Yes_ , Peter wants to say, _so am I._

 

But he keeps quiet, Fury’s vague threat lingering at the back of his mind, and asks after Pepper instead.

 

 _“She’s good,”_ Mr Stark says, _“great!”_

 

Peter raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

 

 _“No.”_ They both let out snorts of laughter _. “She’s terrifying. She keeps trying to do work, and then I stop her, and she doesn’t know what to do with herself! I don’t know if I can take another month of this. When are you coming home?”_

“A week and a bit, Mr Stark.”

 

_“Miss you, Pete.”_

 

“Miss you too,” Peter says. “Think you can handle that long without me?”

 

_“Oh, as long as May keeps Pepper entertained. You? Not gonna tangle with those weird monster things?”_

 

“Come on,” Peter says with a laugh, “I don’t even have my suit.” He desperately wants to tell Mr Stark what he’s doing, but…Mr Stark’s retired. Pepper’s pregnant. He shouldn’t have to worry about Peter.

 

 _“Not that that’s stopped you before,”_ Mr Stark mutters. _“Seriously though, you good? Europe okay?”_

 

Peter could just spill everything right now. It’s on the tip of his tongue, except…he has Mysterio, right? Mr Stark can have a break from babysitting Peter; he has his own baby on the way.

 

“Seriously.” He plasters a fake smile on his face. “I’m good.”

 

* * *

 

“Good work, Spider-Man!” Mysterio yells.

 

They’ve fallen into a rhythm easily, fighting together like they’ve been doing it for years. Mysterio is constantly encouraging him, telling him he’s doing well, picking up Peter’s slack without so much as a snarky comment.

 

Every time they fight together, it gives Peter a warm sensation in his stomach. He feels like he’s doing something _right_.

 

The fire monster is tricky, mirroring their moves, but Mysterio’s green magic keeps it at bay.

 

“It’s like someone’s controlling them,” Peter realises. Mysterio looks at him in surprise. “You see? They always look confused for a second, and then they attack.”

 

“Good eyes!”

 

The fire Elemental finally retreats with a frustrated roar and Mysterio lands next to Peter, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

 

“Nice work, kid.”

 

It’s only later, lying in a bunk bed and listening to Ned snoring, that Peter remembers why that sounded so familiar to him. At the time, Mr Stark hadn’t even crossed his mind.

 

* * *

 

Fighting the earth monster is like battling a walking sandstorm. Peter is struggling, lost in a brown blizzard that’s perfectly capable of taking his eye out.

 

Mysterio is nowhere to be seen, which is just perfect. Peter tries to shield his eyes with one arm and look around.

 

There. He’s hovering, watching Peter fight against the swirling tornado of dust and earth. There’s something approaching disgust on his face.

 

“Hey!” Peter yells. “Help!”

 

“Finally found the one you couldn’t fight. Took me long enough.”

 

Something sickening starts to pool in Peter’s gut. “…what?”

 

In answer, Mysterio raises his arm. The sandstorm stops swirling.

 

And suddenly so much makes sense.

 

“It’s you?” Peter says. He’s numb all over.

 

“Of course it’s me,” Mysterio says dismissively.

 

”These creatures…”

 

“The Elementals? They’re mine. Always have been.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Every hero needs a good old-fashioned villain,” Mysterio drawls. “Oh, and a sidekick.”

 

He might as well have punched Peter in the stomach.

 

“People are so _suggestible_ , aren’t they? All it takes is a little bit of faked heroics, a little bit of the right kind of gas, and they’ll believe anything you want them to.”

 

“No.” Peter shakes his head. “Come on, man. You…”

 

“I’m a good guy?” Mysterio mocks. “You know I’m not all bad? Is that it? People are easy to manipulate as it is, but you – shit, I’ve never met anyone as trusting as you.”

 

Peter’s frozen in the middle of the park, more exposed as Spider-Man than he’s been on this entire trip.

 

“Sorry, Pete,” Mysterio calls, sounding so much like Toomes that Peter is rooted to the ground in fear. “It was fun messing with you, but…I’m bored.”

 

With that, he throws his arms forward and the sand creature collapses on top of Peter.

 

* * *

 

Peter thought being crushed by a collapsed warehouse was bad. He thought feeling each atom of his body flake off and peel away was bad. Nothing compares to being engulfed in a wave of sand and forced to the ground beneath the sheer volume of it.

 

He gasps, panicking at the all-encompassing _weight_ of it. There isn’t a single inch of him that isn’t buried, that he can even move. The sand is everywhere, shifting with every breath he takes. He doesn’t even know which way is up.

 

It’s like swimming, wading, crawling through treacle, but eventually he wriggles enough that one foot breaks free, then a hand, and finally rolls onto firm ground with a shuddering gasp.

 

Peter closes his eyes and just lies on the ground for a moment.

 

“¡Oye!”

 

If he died right now, he probably wouldn’t care.

 

“¿Estás bien?”

 

No, not really. He clambers to his feet anyway, staggering slightly on a leg he hadn’t even realised was hurting him, and swings out of view of the crowd of people with their phones out.

 

* * *

 

Fury just smirks when he stumbles into the base. “Nice work, Spider-Man.”

 

“What?”

 

“We couldn’t work out how Mysterio was controlling the Elementals, so we figured letting him into our inner circle was the best way to go.”

 

“You mean…” Peter hurts everywhere. He’s exhausted. He doesn’t want to think about this. “You knew he wasn’t on our side, this whole time?”

 

“Of course. We only let him think he had our trust.”

 

“But what about my trust? You just let me believe him completely when you knew he’d betray me? I believed you. I trusted you!”

 

“That,” Fury says, “was your first mistake. You’re not doing your buddy comedy shit here, Parker. You’re playing in the big leagues.”

 

“I didn’t want this!”

 

“Too bad. You’re here.” Fury isn’t yelling back; he almost looks bored. “Are you going to finish the job? Because you got gifts, Parker. Are you going to step up or not?”

 

“I have.” Peter swallows back tears. Anger, frustration, betrayal, pain, exhaustion – he doesn’t even know anymore. “I’ve done everything you asked me to, and you people just used me.”

 

He’s so fucking tired. He wants to go back to New York, back to May and Mr Stark. He wants to go home.

 

“You’re our best chance at stopping him. You understand him better than anyone.”

 

“What if I don’t? What if he lied to me about everything, just like you did?”

 

“I didn’t say you know him. I said you understand him.”

 

Peter hasn’t felt this alone since before Titan. He’s barely spoken to his friends in a week, he’s pushed Mr Stark away, and the one person he trusted was playing him.

 

But he’s backed into a corner; Fury knows he won’t quit, not when people are in trouble, not when his friends are in trouble.

 

“Fine,” Peter says.

 

Fury smiles again.

 

* * *

 

He gets back to the hotel for that night, ignoring MJ’s piercing glare and Ned’s concerned glances. Spider-Man is on the news, getting buried under an avalanche of sand and mud.

 

As he’s drifting off to sleep, his injuries almost healed but still hurting in ways he never thought possible, he realises he lost his phone while he was being buried alive.

 

* * *

 

He drags himself back to the SHIELD base the next morning, waving away his friends’ concern and hoping they cover for him with the others. A few of the agents give him sympathetic looks, which is more acknowledgement than they’ve ever given him before.

 

As he limps down the corridor towards Fury’s office, a very familiar voice drifts back to him.

 

“You’ve been lying and lying, you arrogant fuck! Who do you think you are, pulling a kid into a shitshow like this?”

 

“If I remember, _you_ brought him to fight Thanos.”

 

“I didn’t bring him! He followed me!”

 

“The kid can’t just sit back when there’s people in danger.”

 

“No.” Mr Stark’s voice goes dangerously low. “Don’t you try and spin this around on him. I know what you’re like, you manipulative, two-faced bastard. You would have given him no option but to do what you wanted. And you made him lie about it! I didn’t even know until I saw the news yesterday afternoon about Spider-Man being crushed by one of those things. Where the hell is he?”

 

Peter opens the door and walks into the office.

 

Mr Stark whips around, ready to snap at whoever’s interrupting, but he sees Peter and his expression melts from anger to relief in an instant. “Pete!”

 

Peter barely has time to blink before Mr Stark crosses the room in a single stride and gathers him into a hug.

 

“Holy shit, I was so worried.”

 

“I’m okay,” Peter croaks, but he doesn’t even sound convincing to his own ears.

 

“Hey,” Mr Stark whispers into the top of his head, “you look like shit.”

 

Peter laughs, but it comes out like a sob.

 

“You didn’t tell me?” Mr Stark says. “About any of this? Seriously, Peter, I thought we were past this. I trusted you to tell me when you got in over your head like this.”

 

“I’m sorry.” God, Peter just keeps fucking up, doesn’t he?

 

“Hey, hey, no, none of that.” Mr Stark pulls back and looks straight at Peter. “It’s okay, kid. Just…tell me everything. I mean it.”

 

So Peter does. He starts with Fury showing up in his hotel, relishing in the glare Mr Stark shoots at the man in question, and spills out how he’d pushed everyone away and let Mysterio in, only to be let down the instant he began to trust him.

 

“Been through the wringer, huh? None of which, by the way, is your fault.” Mr Stark levels another venomous glare at Fury. “And now we got two problems to deal with because you couldn’t just talk to me. That, for the record, is your fault.”

 

“I know, I know, I just – I thought you needed a break.”

 

“From you? Are you serious?”

 

Peter shrugs.

 

“ _Kid_.” Mr Stark shakes his head in disbelief. “Okay, I got your aunt to call a family emergency so your friends all think I've taken you home. Of course, in this case, you’re the family emergency.”

 

“I’m-?”

 

Mr Stark just looks at him.

 

There was a time when Peter never thought he’d have a family outside of May and Ned; Mr Stark says it like it’s obvious, and it makes him want to cry again.

 

“So, you’re gonna tell me everything about this knockoff Stephen Strange and his weird friends, and then we’re going to show him exactly why no one fucks with Spider-Man. Not when I’m around. Okay?”

 

Peter nods, feeling for the first time in nearly two weeks that he might be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i teasing the stark baby? you bet i'm teasing the stark baby.


	16. car crash (pt.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re on maternity leave,” Mr Stark had insisted. “Let the office handle it.”
> 
>  
> 
> “One last trip down, just to make sure they’ve got everything in order.”
> 
>  
> 
> Mr Stark had pursed his lips. “Okay, then take Peter.”
> 
>  
> 
> So now they’re driving along an icy road in the dark with the threat of snow in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took way longer than i thought it would! i need to go to sleep, seriously, it's like 3am here now BUT i have to say thank you so much for all your comments and kudos. you're all so lovely. enjoy!

“This was a bad idea.”

 

“Tony, they’re not even late yet. Will you just-?”

 

“I should’ve driven them myself-“

 

“You heard Helen,” Rhodey says calmly. “No dizziness, no nausea, no tiredness, no leg cramps – Pepper’s fine to drive. You even modified the driver’s seat so she can sit comfortably.”

 

“I know, I know, but-“

 

“Peter’s with her. They’ll be fine.”

 

“Okay.” Tony nods. “Sure. They’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

“I cannot _wait_ to get into bed,” Pepper groans.

 

Peter laughs.

 

They’re driving back to the Compound after a day of running errands and catching up on SI work.

 

“You’re on maternity leave,” Mr Stark had insisted. “Let the office handle it.”

 

“One last trip down, just to make sure they’ve got everything in order.”

 

“I can come-“

 

“No, I know you’re busy with the team.”

 

Mr Stark had pursed his lips. “Okay, then take Peter.”

 

So now they’re driving along an icy road in the dark with the threat of snow in the air. Pepper has an open bag of cheese flavoured tortilla chips in the central console that her and Peter take turns grabbing handfuls of.

 

“Sorry,” she says, “I’m craving the weirdest foods all the time now.”

 

“Don’t apologise! This is awesome.”

 

She grins over at him. “I knew there was a reason I brought you instead of Tony.”

 

Peter yawns. “All those people – that was exhausting. You do that for a job?”

 

“Welcome to our world,” Pepper says. “And yours, if you take Tony’s place eventually.”

 

“Wait – what?”

 

“What?” She glances at him, her surprise mirroring his. “He told me he already asked you - dammit, Tony.”

 

“He wants me to…?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“But what about your baby?” Peter nods at her baby bump. “You know, your actual child?”

 

“Peter,” Pepper says, and God help him, she has exactly the same disappointed voice as Mr Stark. “You’ll always be Tony’s first kid.”

 

Peter doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just takes another handful of chips.

 

It starts to lightly snow, little white flakes catching the headlights as they drive.

 

“We should’ve left earlier,” Pepper murmurs.

 

“I was just thinking it looks pretty,” Peter says, “like space.”

 

“Wait until you pass your test. Then you’ll see; snow isn’t so pretty when you have to drive in it.”

 

“I guess.”

 

The road is empty except for them, which means only their headlights reflecting off the swirling snow and the road ahead. Something starts to crawl up the back of Peter’s neck.

 

“Is this road safe?”

 

“Probably,” Pepper says. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come this way. It’s normally quicker than going on the main roads.”

 

“Just watch out in case it’s-“

 

The car skids. Pepper snatches at the wheel, but the car spins and slides off the road. The back of the car smacks into something with a dull crash.

 

Peter’s head whips into the side window and he gasps, more in shock than pain.

 

It’s silent for a horrible minute apart from his ears ringing – too silent. The engine, the radio, the heating, everything in the car has cut out.

 

“Peter,” Pepper says.

 

“I’m fine.” Blood is dripping down his forehead, but he knows it’s going to be healed soon. “Are you okay?”

 

“ _Peter_.”

 

He turns around to meet her eyes, wide and panicked. She’s clutching her stomach.

 

“Oh, no. No no no – is it-?”

 

“I didn’t hit the wheel,” she says.

 

Peter believes her. The impact was all on his side, not the front. “So what…?”

 

Pepper stares at him.

 

“No. No, it’s early! You still have a week to go!”

 

“Please don’t panic,” she says through gritted teeth, “or I’ll panic.”

 

“Too late. I’m panicking.”

 

“Oh, Jesus.”

 

“Not now, baby,” Peter pleads. “Just hold on a little longer.”

 

“I don’t think-“ Pepper lets out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think this is a negotiation, Peter.”

 

“But-“ He pulls out his phone, groaning when he sees the screen. “I don’t have service.”

 

“Oh, shit. Me neither. Can you – maybe you can go and see if-“

 

“I can’t leave you!” Peter looks out of the cracked windshield. The snow is starting to fall in earnest; it’s already settling on the ground around them.

 

“You can’t stay here.”

 

Peter closes his eyes. “Mr Stark will find us. We just have to wait this out. He’ll find us.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Now_ they’re late.”

 

“Okay…” Rhodey says slowly. “So call them.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

 

“And?”

 

“The calls aren’t going through.”

 

“And you’ve tried both their phones?”

 

“FRIDAY’s ringing them constantly.” Tony runs his hands through his hair for the tenth time in five minutes. “When I say I want reception everywhere on the StarkPhone, this is what I’m talking about. What if – the baby – or what if something’s wrong with Peter, or – God, it’s snowing out there now-“

 

“Okay, I know you’re worried, but I need you to calm down, man.”

 

Tony shakes his head. This is his _family_. “I can’t-“

 

“Give them another few minutes, and then we’ll go out looking for them.”

 

Of course Rhodey has his back. He’s family, too. Tony nods.

 

* * *

 

“Ohh,” Pepper gasps. “Oh, _God_. Okay.” She grips the door handle, her knuckles going white.

 

“You can hold my hand,” Peter offers. _I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do-_ “Don’t worry if you break it. I’ll heal.”

 

“What if – what if you heal wrong?”

 

“You’re about to give birth!” Peter squeaks.

 

“Mm.” Pepper shakes her head with a grunt. “They’re – the contractions are still far apart. We have a few hours.”

 

“This goes on for hours?”

 

Pepper doubles over with a groan.

 

Peter shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around her shoulders. It’s cold without the heating, but Pepper needs it more than he does. “I have no idea what I’m doing. In case you can’t tell.”

 

“Really?” Pepper gasps out a laugh. “No, sorry, that was mean. I’m glad you’re here, just…”

 

“You’d rather I was a midwife.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Just – Mr Stark’s gonna find us, and then you’ll have the best midwives. Until then, you’re stuck with me.”

 

“Oh, you know.” Pepper smiles at him. “It could be worse.”

 

* * *

 

“All right. Suit up.”

 

Rhodey doesn’t argue this time and Tony’s grateful for it. It’s an hour past the time Pepper had told them they’d be back.

 

“We got any idea where they might be?” Rhodey shrugs into his armour while Tony’s spills out from his chest piece. “We don’t have time to waste.”

 

“Pepper likes to take the backroads sometimes, especially if she wants to get home faster. Makes sense seeing as we can’t get hold of them.”

 

“Okay, we’ll start there. Tony.” Rhodey puts a hand on his shoulder. “They’ll be fine.”

 

“I should’ve gotten someone to drive them.”

 

“You gave Happy time off. Come on, Pepper wanted to drive herself and you would’ve just pissed her off if you’d tried to argue.”

 

“I just – if anything happens – I’ve lost Peter once. I thought I lost Pepper for five minutes and it nearly killed me. You know I can’t do that again.”

 

Rhodey nods; the months after Thanos were painful for all of them, and no one dealt with it worse than Tony. “They have you looking out for them, okay? They’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

“How long has it been?”

 

Peter shakes his head. He’s starting to shiver. “D-dunno.”

 

Pepper swallows.

 

“Do you r-remember the breathing videos you watched?”

 

“Do you?”

 

“I was laughing at them.”

 

She leans forward and braces her forehead against the steering wheel. “Okay.”

 

“Mr Stark’s gonna find us.”

 

“He’d better, or he’s going to hear about it.”

 

Peter laughs, curling his knees up to his chest. It’s really cold. “W-well, now I know he’s on his way. C-c-can’t risk you shouting at him.”

 

* * *

 

“FRIDAY, keep scanning.”

 

_“Of course, Boss.”_

 

“Rhodey, you seeing anything?”

 

_“No fresh tracks in the snow. If I had to guess, I’d say they didn’t make it this far.”_

 

“Shit,” Tony mutters. His display zooms in on a set of tyre tracks, half-buried by the snow. “Wait - Rhodey? Rhodey! On me.”

 

He swoops lower, trying to follow the marks, and lands at the side of the road.

 

“Tony!”

 

He turns at Rhodey’s shout and takes off.

 

When he sees the wrecked car, he almost falls out of the sky. Its back door is wedged against a tree and it’s dark and silent.

 

“Pepper! Peter!”

 

Rhodey wrenches open the passenger door just as Tony lands beside him. Pepper is doubled over, one hand clutching Peter’s and the other arm wrapped around her stomach. Peter is shivering violently, his jacket draped around Pepper’s shoulders, and there’s dried blood on his forehead.

 

“G-get him out,” Pepper gasps. “He’s f-freezing.”

 

“N-n-n-“ Peter struggles as they start to pull him out, but it’s so weak that Tony has to swallow down his panic. “B-b-“

 

“What, kid?”

 

“Baby!”

 

“Baby?”

 

As if on cue, Pepper bends over with a noise that’s half-scream, half-groan.

 

“Baby!” Tony yells.

 

He passes Peter off to Rhodey and runs around to Pepper’s door, yanking it off the hinges and gently picking her up.

 

“Ah – ow, ow-“

 

“Sorry, I’m sorry-“

 

“Get her back to the Compound,” Rhodey says. “I’m right behind you with the kid.”

 

Tony takes a second to touch Peter’s cheek, cold and pale, before he takes off with Pepper clutched to his chest.

 

* * *

 

Peter wakes up just as Rhodey touches down outside the Compound. He peels open one eye and sees Bruce sprinting towards them.

 

He drifts.

 

“-hypothermia?”

 

“-possible – gave his jacket to Pepper. How-?”

 

“Doing well-“

 

“Tony’s gonna want him there-“

 

“-see what I can do-“

 

“Kid? Peter, don’t pass out. Your baby sibling’s on their way.” Rhodey’s voice swims into his brain, but he can’t focus on it. He can’t focus on anything. “If you miss that, Tony might actually kill you.”

 

But he’s so tired, and the newfound warmth is seeping into his bones, and Pepper’s okay, and…

 

* * *

 

“I’m – going – to kill you,” Pepper gasps out. “Having kids – totally your idea. Never again.”

 

“Oh, honey,” the midwife says sympathetically as Tony backs away from his wife’s venomous glare. “It’s all worth it.”

 

“Is it?” Pepper screeches, before she drops her head back and groans, long and pained.

 

“There, there.”

 

Tony rubs her shoulder, unsure what else he can do. Pepper wasn’t as cold as Peter when he brought her in; the doctors’ main concern had been to time her contractions and work out how long before she actually gave birth. Tony was still stressed that the car accident or the cold might have caused some problems, but three doctors and Pepper had told him to shut the hell up, so now he’s a verbal punchbag. Occasionally physical, too.

 

“Peter?” Pepper manages. “Is he – is he okay? He couldn’t – he got cold-“

 

“I know.” Tony swallows at the thought that Peter had given his jacket to Pepper without hesitation, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stay warm without it. Any other day, Tony would have kicked his ass all the way back to Queens, but he’d done it for Pepper. “Kid's not great at staying warm, but he'll be fine. Rhodey’ll take care of him.”

 

“Fuck’s sake,” Pepper snaps. “Go find him. You wanted – wanted him here.”

 

“But you-“

 

“We have a while yet,” the midwife interjects.

 

“ _Terrific_.” Pepper grits her teeth. “Go.”

 

Tony turns and runs out of the room. As he leaves, he hears the midwife say, “You’re dilating perfectly, dear.”

 

“It fucking feels like it!”

 

* * *

 

Tony realises, once he’s halfway to Peter’s room, that he’s been freaking out about the kid this whole time and now he’s actually thinking about it, it’s all coming out at once.

 

Peter was almost blue when they found him. He was so pale and weak and-

 

He throws the door to Peter’s room open without knocking and May, Rhodey and Peter all jump about a foot in the air.

 

May recovers first. “Tony! How’s Pepper? Is it going okay?”

 

“She’s good, thanks to Peter.” Tony crosses to the bed, ruffling Peter’s hair. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Peter grins. He’s covered in heated blankets and wrapped in one of Tony’s old MIT sweaters. There’s a hint of colour back in his cheeks. “Looked worse than it was, I promise.”

 

“Good. Come on. Baby’s coming.”

 

Unfortunately, Helen and Bruce walk in just as Tony’s helping Peter out of bed.

 

In short, that’s how Tony ends up pushing Peter down the corridor in a wheelchair with May and Rhodey giggling behind him and Helen’s dire threats ringing in his ears.

 

* * *

 

“How long does this take?” Peter asks May. Pepper shrieks again and they both wince.

 

“Won’t be long,” she promises, adjusting one of the many blankets Bruce had piled on top of him.

 

“Push. Push, okay, dear? That’s it.”

 

“You’re nearly there, Pep-“

 

“Screw you, Tony!”

 

Peter tilts his head. “Aren’t babies supposed to bring people together?”

 

Rhodey shrugs with a rueful grin. “You should’ve heard my sister. She was swearing blue murder by the end.”

 

“Fuck this!”

 

“You’re doing great, honey.”

 

“I used to think Pepper was so dignified,” May says. Happy laughs and she shoots him a grin.

 

Pepper lets out a long scream and Peter’s enhanced hearing picks up Mr Stark’s soft gasp, followed by a weak cry. He sits up straighter.

 

May notices and sits up herself. “Is it…?”

 

The door opens and Mr Stark stumbles out, looking dazed and tired but absolutely ecstatic.

 

“Hey,” Rhodey says. “So…?”

 

“Girl,” Mr Stark says with a dopey grin. “We have a girl.”

 

Rhodey pulls him into a hug and walks inside. Happy follows him.

 

“Come on, Parkers.” Mr Stark’s sleeves are rolled up and his hair is ruffled, but he looks happier than Peter’s ever seen him. “Family only right now. Get in before the mob descends.”

 

Peter’s mouth drops open. “You mean-“

 

Mr Stark rolls his eyes and wheels Peter inside.

 

Pepper is sitting up in bed, her hair sweaty, holding a whining bundle of blankets. She smiles at Peter. “Come say hi to your little sister.” She holds the bundle out.

 

Oh.

 

Of course Peter’s thought about holding the baby, but in a vague, far-off way. This tiny, delicate person suddenly seems so real and painfully fragile.

 

“Pete?” Mr Stark says.

 

“What if I-? I might hurt her.”

 

“There’s no one I’d trust with her more than you.” And then Mr Stark takes the bundle from Pepper and settles it in Peter’s arms. The baby makes a snuffling noise and stops crying.

 

Peter falls in love in an instant. “Hey,” he coos, “hey, baby.”

 

“That,” Mr Stark says, “is your big brother.”

 

May gently holds one of the tiny hands sticking out of the blankets. “Do you have a name for her?”

 

“Morgan,” Pepper says.

 

“Hey, Morgan.” Peter smiles down at her. “Welcome to the family.”


	17. heart break (pt.2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has his family now, but there was a time he didn't.
> 
>  
> 
> The universe broke, and Tony's heart broke with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST OF ALL you are all SO KIND!?!?! i woke up to all your lovely comments on yesterday's chapter and i cried.
> 
> second of all!! it's like 10 instead of 3 in the morning, so good for me.
> 
> this chapter contains a brief description of a panic attack and some possible spoilers for endgame that i've deduced from the trailers.

The Medbay room is quiet. Morgan, after being passed from person to person, has finally dropped off now that everyone else has. Tony and May are the only ones still awake.

 

“You still need a middle name, baby,” Tony murmurs to the pile of blankets he’s cradling; Peter’s pet name has stuck, apparently.

 

“A problem for another time, Tony.” May yawns and stretches.

 

“True.” Her yawn makes Tony yawn and they both dissolve into a fit of silent giggles.

 

“And make sure this name doesn’t come to you in a dream or whatever.”

 

“Pepper told you about that?”

 

“Pepper tells me everything.”

 

“Oh no.” They break into quiet sniggers. Rhodey shifts in his chair.

 

“Okay,” May whispers, “don’t wake them up. Don’t-“

 

Happy lets out a long snore and it just sets them off again.

 

Tony checks to make sure he hasn’t jolted Morgan enough to wake her up. “If we weren’t so tired, it wouldn’t be this funny.”

 

“I don’t know.” May tilts her head and studies him. “Maybe it would. You look…happy, Tony.”

 

“I’m fucking ecstatic.”

 

“Language,” she says, and it’s a lot more threatening than when Steve does it.

 

“All right, all right. I’m just…I never thought I’d have this. I never thought I’d _get_ to have this.”

 

“There was a moment it looked pretty dicey,” she agrees, “for both of us.”

 

“You lost more than I did.”

 

“Tony,” May says reproachfully, “we both lost our kid.”

 

Tony’s gaze drifts to Peter, passed out on the other bed in the room. He’d protested taking it at first, but May had fixed him with a steely glare and reminded him that he’d spent hours in a freezing car and was under strict orders from Helen Cho to rest.

 

Peter scrunches his face up in his sleep and they both smile. He’s almost buried under a pile of heating blankets. He’s there, though, safe and alive.

 

“Got him back, though.”

 

May smiles again and adjusts one of the blankets. “Yeah, you did.”

 

But Tony remembers when it seemed like he’d never have this. It feels like the distant past but it’s frighteningly recent. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night, certain that Peter's still gone and the hole in his chest never left.

 

He remembers the pain like it was yesterday.

 

* * *

 

He stumbles down the ship’s ramp, only held by Nebula’s hand under his arm. Nothing seems real – the grass under his feet, the Compound building in the distance, the dull grey sky.

 

“This is your planet?” Nebula asks, a note of surprise in her robotic voice.

 

“Yes.”

 

“It is…nice. I can understand why you defend it.”

 

“It’s not the planet,” Tony rasps as they limp towards the Compound. It’s terrifyingly still and silent. “It’s the people. People like…” _Like Peter_.

 

Nebula nods. “Like your son.”

 

She’s been saying that since they’d fixed the ship enough to get off Titan, the first words she’d said to Tony since hauling him to his feet and snapping, “Get up. We’re not dying here.” She’d watched him staring at his hands as they took off, his fingers still grey and dirty with the remains of Peter, and said, “I’m sorry about your son.”

 

Tony had been too exhausted, too tired and heartbroken, to correct her. He still is.

 

What is there to correct, anyway? At some point during the eighteen months between the Homecoming Incident (capitalised, that’s how serious it was) and this fucking waking nightmare, ‘the kid’ had become ‘my kid’.

 

And now he’s gone.

 

Nebula tenses, her head shooting up, and pushes Tony behind her. A second later, Rhodey appears, sprinting towards them.

 

“It’s okay.” Tony’s voice cracks; he’s so relieved to have someone he loves still alive. “I know him, Nebula.”

 

She releases his arm in time for Rhodey to yank him into the tightest hug of his life.

 

_Hands around his back, a small voice crying, “Mr Stark, please, I don’t wanna go.”_

 

The pain from his stab wound flares up again, but he hugs Rhodey back just as fiercely.

 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Rhodey promises. “So help me, if you ever scare me like that again-“

 

Tony tries to say, “I’m sorry,” but the words stick in his throat.

 

_A hand ghosting lightly over his shoulder. Brown eyes turning to the sky._

_God help him, he can see the exact moment Peter gives up._

_A final exhale. “I’m sorry.”_

 

“Where the hell have you been?”

 

“Tony?” a new voice calls – well, screams. “Tony!”

 

“Pep?” He pulls away from Rhodey to see Pepper hurtling across the grass, her hair loose and whipping behind her as she runs.

 

He’s lightheaded with relief, because she’s alive, she’s safe. He couldn’t have handled losing her as well.

 

“Oh, you’re okay!” she gasps when she reaches him, kissing every inch of his grimy face. “We didn’t know – we thought-“

 

And then Steve Rogers comes into Tony’s line of sight, walking slowly, like he’s hesitant to get closer, and the dizzy feeling gets worse, which makes no sense because he’s not relieved to see Steve like he is with Pepper, and it’s about then that Tony remembers he hasn’t eaten for three days, and he keels forward and collapses on Pepper.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up, everything’s warm and bright, a welcome change from the cold darkness of space. Pepper and Rhodey are sitting either side of him, smiling in relief.

 

“I think he’s sleeping right now.” Steve’s voice floats through the door, sounding like a new teacher who isn’t quite sure how to tell the most confident kid in class off.

 

“I don’t give a shit that you’re Captain America. Get out of my way.”

 

Happy sounds rougher than Tony’s ever heard him when he speaks. “Let her in, Rogers.”

 

May Parker walks into Tony’s hospital room.

 

He can’t do this.

 

She’s small and hunched over, her long hair pulled back into a bun, and she’s looking around like she expects to see someone else. Tony knows who.

 

They all will have seen the news by now; it’s been weeks. Aliens attacked Manhattan. Iron Man and Spider-Man went into space. Only one came back.

 

“He’s not here, is he?” May sounds painfully fragile. Pepper gets up and gently guides her into a chair.

 

“I’m-“ Tony croaks. “God, May, I’m sorry.”

 

She just puts her face in her hands and cries.

 

May Parker cries like her heart is breaking, and Tony knows because his did, too.

 

“I was holding him.” It’s spilling out now. It hurts to say it, but if anyone deserves to hear it, she does. “I tried, May – we were supposed to stop this happening, but – I don’t know, something went wrong, and – I tried to keep him safe.”

 

“I know.” Her voice is muffled by her fingers. “I know you did.”

 

“I sent him home,” Tony whispers. “He wasn’t supposed to be there.”

 

Rhodey exhales, understanding dawning on his face. Tony knows he’ll have used his emergency override for the Compound’s data security, knows he’ll have seen the logs from FRIDAY on the day they disappeared, the blueprints and schematics for a suit too small to fit Tony.

 

“He can’t help but help people.” May rubs her eyes. “You said you were holding him?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’m glad it was you,” she whispers. “If it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was you.”

 

_“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go-“_

 

_Maybe, if Tony holds on tight enough, he can keep Peter together._

_He can’t._

 

“I’m sorry.” He manages to say it this time, but the words sting on the way out.

 

_“If you die, I feel like that’s on me. I don’t need that on my conscience.”_

_“I understand, sir, I’m sorry-“_

 

Except it is on Tony’s conscience, weighing heavier than any guilt he’s felt before. All the suits, the protocols, the web combinations – none of it was enough to keep Peter safe. Not when it mattered.

 

* * *

 

The next time he wakes up, Pepper is staring at him with sympathy. No one else is in the room.

 

“The kid?” she asks. “Spider-Man?”

 

So May told her everything.

 

“He was sixteen.” Tony stares up at the ceiling. “I couldn’t tell May, Pep, but he was scared. He had enough time to be scared, enough time to cry and – he fucking begged me to save him, Pep, and I just – I didn’t even say anything.” It’s like he’s at confession, spilling out the worst thing he’s ever done. “He was crying and saying he didn’t want to go, and I couldn’t even say anything.”

 

Pepper doesn’t sound angry or disgusted, the way she should. She just sounds sad. “His name was Peter.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, “his name was Peter.”

 

* * *

 

The days when he’s confined to the bed are uneventful. He’s tired, he decides. The world has finally beaten Tony Stark.

 

The only slightly interesting moment comes when a nurse asks, “Mr Stark?” and nearly flips him into a panic attack right there and then.

 

Pepper and Rhodey have no idea what set him off. Happy and May do.

 

They know how Peter was always bouncing everywhere, ‘Mr Stark’ this and ‘Mr Stark’ that. They know the hole that’s tearing open in Tony now, a huge gaping chasm of loss that won’t ever get better.

 

When he’s finally got his breathing under control, May turns to the nurse and quietly asks her to call him Tony instead.

 

* * *

 

“It _hurts_ ,” Tony says a few days after he’s discharged. He and May are sitting on the roof of the Compound. It’s quiet – it always was out here, anyway – but now there isn’t so much as a plane flying overhead. “I thought – isn’t it supposed to get better? It just keeps hurting more.”

 

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost anyone like this. Yinsen, maybe, but they were pushed together by circumstance. Obadiah, perhaps, but the sting of his betrayal had already turned to resentment by the time he’d died. He’d always known Steve and the others were out there in the world, even if they weren’t his family anymore. His mother, yes, but that’s not like losing a child, and he’d spent most of the next ten years drunk off his ass. He survived that.

 

This, though – he thinks this might actually kill him. Every time he walks into the lab expecting a cheerful, “Hey, Mr Stark!” Every time he stares at the empty slot where 17-A used to sit. Every little thing makes him hurt just a little bit more. He never thought it was possible to miss someone so much.

 

May shrugs. Where Tony is cracked, open and vulnerable, she’s completely closed off and shut down. She only eats when Pepper and Happy force her to. She’s not letting it hurt; she’s lost people before too, but never like this. “After Ben…Peter was the only thing that kept me going. Now I don’t even have him.”

 

“You have us,” Tony says before he can even think about it.

 

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

Reuniting with Steve is exactly as awkward as Tony had feared it would be, but he doesn’t have enough of his shattered heart left to care. Weeks pass, months and years of grieving become the norm. The world is broken, but so is Tony.

 

Until Natasha all but drags him into a conference room one day and forces him into a chair, and Carol and Scott, of all people, explain their theory.

 

“I don’t understand.” Steve is just as cracked open and broken as Tony. Barnes, Sam, Wanda, Vision – all gone. He can’t finish the sentence. It’s too big.

 

Clint sits beside Tony, stewing. They’ve developed some weird, fucked-up kind of solidarity since Natasha retrieved him from Japan. Where Tony went inwards, Clint exploded with rage and hurt. Heartbreak shows itself in different ways, but it was still like the universe was saying, ‘Buddy up, guys, you watched your kids die’.

 

When Clint had learned that Wanda didn’t make it either, Tony was the only one who could get through to him.

 

But now he understands the kleptomaniac and the glowing space lady – and he’s not jealous of her, he just thought _he_ was Rhodey’s coolest friend. He knows what they’re saying underneath all the technical bullshit about time streams and the Quantum Realm. His cracked and broken heart starts to piece back together a little.

 

“You’re saying there’s a way to get them back.”

 

Carol nods.

 

For the first time in three years, Tony Stark smiles.

 

* * *

 

“What you thinking about over there?” May whispers.

 

Tony glances around the room: Pepper, fast asleep, her greasy hair pulled up in a messy ponytail; Happy, head back, mouth open, softly snoring; Rhodey, sleeping in a way that’s going to be very painful when he wakes up; May, running her fingers through Peter’s hair; Peter; dead to the world like he didn’t just keep Pepper and Morgan alive in a freezing car; Morgan, still sleeping soundly in his arms. He shrugs. “Family.”


	18. damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The miniaturised arc reactor in the housing unit on Mr Stark’s suit is damaged.”
> 
>  
> 
> Shit. Without the reactor, Mr Stark’s suit is powerless, and without power, he’s basically a sitting duck in nanites. The suit won’t respond to anything, not even Mr Stark’s brain impulses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm enjoying this challenge so much! how are there only ten prompts after this?

Peter gets the alert via automated text just as Chemistry is finishing and he's running to meet Ned and MJ for coffee in his free period. Usually, as much as it kills him to, he ignores the calls to get to the Compound, knowing he’d never get there in time and, even if he did, Mr Stark would make him stay behind just for skipping school.

 

This time is different, though, because FRIDAY tells him that Mr Stark is in Manhattan, which Peter can get to easily, and he’s alone.

 

The rest of the Avengers are in Africa, helping Wakanda shut down a terrorist cell with extremely advanced weapons. They’ll never get back in time. They won’t be able to help Mr Stark.

 

Peter will.

 

“Ned,” he hisses, “I don’t feel well. I’m going home, okay?”

 

Ned nods so enthusiastically that he nearly falls over.

 

MJ walks around them, her gaze fixed on her book. “Be careful, loser.”

 

“Thanks,” Peter says, and then he turns and sprints out of the coffee shop.

 

* * *

 

He never thought he’d feel better in the Iron Spider than his first suit from Mr Stark, or even the alleged ‘onesie’, but the instant the nanites crawl over his head and his display lights up, he’s ready for anything.

 

_“Communication established.”_

 

“Thanks, Karen. Hey, Mr Stark!”

 

 _“Parker!”_ Mr Stark exclaims. _“Shouldn’t you be in school?”_

 

“I know the others aren’t back yet! FRIDAY sent the alert out, and I’m on my way now. What is it?”

 

He can almost hear Mr Stark rolling his eyes, but he’s better at letting Peter into fights than when they first met _. “Some crazy woman with a giant cannon.”_

 

“…a what, sorry?”

 

_“You heard me. It’s shooting out some kind of…invisible pulses of energy. FRIDAY’s finding it hard to get a read on it.”_

 

“Oh, my God,” Peter laughs. His life is so ridiculous. “Okay, I’m on the way.”

 

_“Right. Okay, I want to shut this down quickly, before anything gets too badly damaged. You know what the Upper East Siders get like when we break their – shit!”_

 

“Mr Stark?”

 

There’s no response. Peter starts to web towards Manhattan a little faster, hoisting himself up on an office block and swinging through Midtown.

 

“Karen, can you get through to FRIDAY?”

 

_“FRIDAY is offline.”_

 

“What? Re-establish contact.”

 

_“FRIDAY managed to send me an emergency diagnostic before she shut down.”_

 

“And?”

 

_“The miniaturised arc reactor in the housing unit on Mr Stark’s suit is damaged.”_

 

Shit. Without the reactor, Mr Stark’s suit is powerless, and without power, he’s basically a sitting duck in nanites. The suit won’t respond to anything, not even Mr Stark’s brain impulses.

 

Thank God the reactor doesn’t power his heart anymore.

 

“I have to get to him.”

 

_“I wouldn’t advise it, Peter.”_

 

“I don’t care, Karen. Find him.”

 

She pulls up a small map in his display. _“This is his last recorded location. I must warn you that he was close to the weapon when his suit went offline.”_

 

“If you’re trying to change my mind, Karen, it’s not working.”

 

_“I didn’t think it would.”_

 

Peter swings down Fifth and sets off towards Central Park, following the route Karen’s highlighting for him.

 

The signal fades out at the corner of Central Park Street, and Peter frowns at the deserted plaza.

 

“Karen?” He slips to the ground. The only evidence that anything strange has happened is the lack of people around him.

 

_“That was all the data I had, Peter. I’m sorry.”_

 

A dull boom echoes down the street and Peter jumps.

 

“Okay!” He throws out his arm and webs down the street towards the noise. “Found him.”

 

_“Peter, be careful. There is still an active battle, as far as we’re aware.”_

 

“Sure.” Peter swings across to the next street over.

 

The street is abandoned, which is his first clue he’s in the right place. Nowhere in New York is that quiet. Peter shoots a web and swings up to the top of a building.

 

He finally sees Mr Stark, in the distance, struggling to move the nanotech suit without the power to do it. He’s climbing to his feet, but it’s too slow.

 

A woman is advancing down the street towards him, a large weapon balanced on her shoulder.

 

_“I have located the energy cannon.”_

 

“Oh, you think, Karen?”

 

The woman is powering up her cannon again. Mr Stark won’t be able to get out of the way.

 

“Hey!” Peter screams and jumps down to the street. He’s too far away to get there in time, but if he can distract her, even get her to change her target… “Spider-Man, right here!”

 

Mr Stark makes a muffled noise behind his faceplate, just loud enough for Peter’s enhanced hearing to pick it up. Honestly, it’s a toss-up between it being, “Peter, don’t!” or, “Peter, you’re dead!”

 

Rage and fear are very similar emotions, Peter supposes.

 

He’s so focused on being loud and distracting that he forgets about the woman with the huge energy cannon, and when he looks back, he sees she’s aiming right at him.

 

Peter barely has time to throw up his arms to protect himself.

 

The blast sends him flying backwards, tumbling through the air until his back slams against a building and he slumps to the ground.

 

“Okay,” he gasps. “Ow.”

 

He rolls over and staggers to his feet, fighting to pull air into his winded lungs, and tries to shoot a web to pull him up onto the building.

 

Oh.

 

His webshooters are cracked and sparking, and parts of his suits have completely burned away. The nanoparticles are shifting around like they’re trying to cover the gaps but they aren’t sure how.

 

_“Peter, your suit can’t withstand that amount of damage again.”_

 

“Karen, I need to help Mr Stark-“

 

 _“Peter, my primary protocol is to protect you.”_ He can almost hear her sigh before she continues, _“And so is Mr Stark’s.”_

 

“I need-“ Peter’s breaths are rasping harshly in his own ears. “The suit needs power, so I need…Karen, Taser webs.”

 

_“To do that, I will have to reroute nanites from other parts of your suit-“_

 

“Just do it!”

 

She doesn’t respond, but nanites start crawling up from his legs to his arms, reforming his webshooters around his wrists.

 

This time, when Peter tries to web up the building, his suit responds. He winces when he lands on his left ankle, which he doesn’t remember injuring but here it is, hurting.

 

Mr Stark has hardly moved, and Peter thanks everything he believes in that his suit doesn’t rely on an arc reactor for power.

 

“Taser web!” he orders again. He staggers forward a few steps and aims his right wrist at the blue light on Mr Stark’s chest.

 

He fires.

 

Once again, somehow, he’s completely forgotten about the woman he’s supposed to be fighting and her giant terrifying cannon that shoots pulses of energy.

 

His web, crackling with electricity, shoots through the air towards Mr Stark, and another wall of solid air crashes into him and sends him flying.

 

He hears the impact a split second before he feels it, but _then_ he feels it, pain shooting up his spine. He slips limply to the ground and grunts at the sudden throb of protest from his ribs.

 

This time, he doesn’t get up.

 

* * *

 

“Peter? Peter!”

 

“Five m’re m’nutes…”

 

“Peter Benjamin _Parker_ -“

 

Uh-oh. Full name alert.

 

Peter peels open one eye with a groan. Hands grab his shoulders and yank him into a sitting position. Mr Stark’s face is inches from his.

 

“Are you okay?” Peter blinks as Mr Stark shakes him. “Are you hurt?”

 

Peter considers it; he’s aching and his head is throbbing, but nothing seems seriously wrong. “I’m…I’m fine, I-“

 

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

 

Peter’s very tired and he’s had a very long day and he’s feeling very sore, so being suddenly yelled at like this takes a minute to sink in. “…what?”

 

“You think throwing yourself in the line of fire was the answer to this? When you knew what that weapon could do? Look at your suit!”

 

“I’m sorry about the suit-“

 

“I don’t give a shit about the suit, Peter!” Mr Stark sits back abruptly, and Peter realises how terrified he’d been.

 

Fear and rage are very similar emotions, it seems.

 

“Do you have any idea-?” Mr Stark breaks off, inhaling through his nose. “I was stuck, Peter, and I couldn’t move – I couldn’t do a fucking thing to help you. Do you understand how - I was-“

 

“I couldn’t let her-“

 

“Your life is not worth mine,” Mr Stark snaps. “Do you understand that?”

 

“I couldn’t let you die!” Peter yells back.

 

There’s a moment where they both sit, breathing heavily, staring at each other.

 

“Uncle Ben…” Peter says. He’s never told anyone this, not even May, but he needs Mr Stark to understand. “It was my fault he died.”

 

“Peter, no-“

 

“You weren’t there!” It comes out snappier than he means it to. “He died because of me, and I – I can’t lose you too, okay? I can’t. And you’ve just had Morgan, and Pepper needs you-“

 

He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Mr Stark reaches out and swipes his thumbs across Peter’s cheeks.

 

“Jeez, Pete, I didn’t mean to yell, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“You know I only get mad because-“

 

“Because you worry, I know.”

 

Mr Stark sighs, the last of his anger melting away. “You scared the shit out of me, kid.”

 

Peter taps the scorched housing unit, its blue light now flickering. “Saved your life, though.”

 

“Yeah, you did, you stupid idiot.” Mr Stark shakes his head. “Come here.”

 

Peter falls into his arms without a second’s hesitation. Mr Stark drops his head to rest against the top of Peter’s, letting out a shaky breath.

 

“I think,” Mr Stark says, “I think I’m supposed to say I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, but I do know, because I have. It killed me, Pete. I can’t do it again, you got that? I won’t.”

 

“I’m not apologising,” Peter says, “apart from ruining the suit. I am sorry about the suit.”

 

Mr Stark snorts and sighs, pulling back but keeping one arm around Peter; it’s a reassurance to both of them. “Okay. Let’s just…go home. We’re leaving this for the DoDC and the NYPD to clear up.”

 

“Is it all-?”

 

“All wrapped up in a neat little bow.”

 

Peter climbs to his feet and surveys the wreckage. The woman is sitting against a car, her hands and feet restrained, and her cannon is in pieces on the sidewalk. Sirens are wailing a few blocks away.

 

“I’m calling another suit,” Mr Stark says, “and then we’re going home and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

 

“That’s a bit…over the top, isn’t it?”

 

“No, I have two kids now. I’m a fully-fledged parent. There’s no such thing as too much. Also, you cut class and gave me a heart attack: you’re grounded.”

 

“Mr Stark!”


	19. breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now he’s in his pyjamas and FRIDAY has shut down. Perfect.
> 
>  
> 
> Not how he imagined his weekend in Malibu going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this prompt is Long because I'm procrastinating.
> 
> this chapter contains a couple of references to underage sex, meant as snide comments by the bad guys, and one scene that could be seen as comparable to a non-con situation, so be safe!

_“Security breach!”_

 

Peter wakes up to FRIDAY’s voice repeating the same two words over and over.

 

_“Security breach! Security breach!”_

 

He rolls out of bed and lands on his feet, fully prepared to make his way to Mr Stark’s room, but FRIDAY abruptly goes silent and all the lights turn off at once with a thunk.

 

Not how he imagined his weekend in Malibu going.

 

It was Pepper’s idea for him and Mr Stark to spend some time over here. “Get out of New York for a few days. Show Peter your labs over there, the house. I’ll be fine with Morgan for a few days. It’ll be relaxing.”

 

Except now he’s in his pyjamas and FRIDAY has shut down. Perfect.

 

He opens his bedroom door, straining his hearing for anything out of the ordinary.

 

Footsteps on the ground floor. Heavy boots. Muffled whispering.

 

Crap. Not a glitch, then.

 

He could try and get to his suit, but that’s two floors down in the lab. If he tries to fight them, he’ll have to be careful not to reveal his powers.

 

Peter waits until he’s sure the footsteps have moved past the stairs before slipping out of his room and hopping over the banister. He lands in a crouch and jogs behind the couch, peeking around to try and get a glimpse of the intruders.

 

Something grabs his wrist and yanks him down, a hand covers his mouth, and Peter takes a second to berate his spider senses for not working when he really needs them.

 

“Hey, hey,” a voice hisses in his ear. A very familiar voice. “Just me. If I let you go, will you promise not to do anything that stupid again?”

 

Peter nods.

 

“Okay.” The hand over his mouth vanishes.

 

“Mr Stark!” Peter gasps. “You scared me.” Good to know his senses aren’t broken.

 

“You scared me, you damn idiot! What were you doing?”

 

“Seeing how many there are.”

 

“Too damn many for you to fight.”

 

“I wasn’t going to!”

 

Mr Stark looks at him for a moment before he nods. “Okay, I believe you. I reserve the right to be stressed, though.”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“We can’t stay here. We’re going to have to abandon the proverbial ship.”

 

“How do we get out?” Peter whispers. “They’re everywhere.”

 

“We use past me’s paranoia to our advantage.” Mr Stark glances out of their hiding place again. “God, I’m so glad Pep stayed in New York. Could use a bit of Steve Rogers, though.”

 

“You have me,” Peter says.

 

“I do. Difference being I would care a lot more if you got hurt.”

 

“I’m telling Steve you said that.”

 

“And you will surprise exactly no one.” Mr Stark gives the hallway one last look. “Okay, now!”

 

They run, Mr Stark’s fingers still wrapped around Peter’s wrist. It’s dark, red lights still flashing, and FRIDAY is still eerily silent.

 

“There’s a tunnel here.” Mr Stark presses a painting and it swings open without a sound. “See? Thank you, past me.”

 

Peter’s about to laugh when he feels a cold prickle on the back of his neck.

 

A gun clicks behind him.

 

“Don’t move.”

 

Mr Stark turns at the voice and panic flashes across his face for a split second before he controls his expression. “Okay. Not moving. Don’t hurt the kid.”

 

“Down on the ground,” a new voice says. “Slowly.”

 

“Just like me, Peter.” Mr Stark slowly gets down on his knees. “Don’t be a hero. Not this time.”

 

There’s barely concealed fear in his eyes, warnings of, ‘Don’t let them see who you are’ and, ‘You might be Spider-Man, but you can’t stop a bullet’.

 

Peter sighs and copies him.

 

“Secret tunnel, huh? What else are you hiding in this house, Stark?”

 

Peter wants to turn and see how many men are behind him, but he keeps his gaze trained on the floor just in front of Mr Stark.

 

“Any more…interns?” He says the word like a euphemism. “Or is it just you and the kid having some alone time?”

 

“Sorry?” Mr Stark snaps. “What the fuck are you implying?”

 

“God, enough talking,” another man groans. “Just get Stark to show us to the shit. You, keep the kid with you if you really want.”

 

“No,” Mr Stark says firmly. “The kid stays with me.”

 

“Ah-ah. You don’t make the demands here.” Something cold brushes through Peter’s hair and he does his best not to shiver.

 

“You got me.” Mr Stark voice is calm, but his jaw is clenched. “I’ll do what you want if you don’t hurt the kid.” He pauses, glancing around as if to make sure they’re all listening. “Touch a single hair on his head, and by the time I’m finished, you’ll wish I killed you.”

 

Peter shakes his head. The house might have been destroyed and rebuilt, but there’s still plenty of things these people could want: Iron Man suits, plans for new inventions, Mr Stark’s AI technology. He can’t be the reason they get them. “Mr Stark, no-“

 

“Shut up.” A hand grabs his hair and yanks, hard.

 

Mr Stark’s even expression turns to rage in an instant. “Get your fucking hands off him!”

 

Everything is deathly silent for a second, frozen into motionlessness, before the man behind Peter snorts and releases him.

 

“Westcott,” the other man snaps, “stop fucking around.”

 

“Can’t help it.”

 

“What do you want?” Mr Stark asks. “You got me here, so come on. Tech? Money? Something more original? I’m on the edge of my seat here.”

 

“You’re going to go down to the lab and build us what we want. We’ll keep the kid…for insurance.”

 

“I said-“

 

“Come on, Stark, if he works for you, he’s gotta be smart. We don’t need two of you in there.”

 

Peter wants to struggle but the prickling at the base of his skull tells him the gun is still aimed at his head.

 

“Don’t fight, Pete,” Mr Stark says gently. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

 

_Don’t let them know who you are._

 

“Mr Stark-“

 

They’re pulling him to his feet, dragging him away.

 

Mr Stark shakes his head. “Don’t be a hero.”

 

_Not this time._

 

* * *

 

“Don’t be a hero.”

 

The men pull Peter away from him, and Tony wants to scream and fight and pull Peter close to his chest.

 

But he can’t. He knows he has to play for time. It’s killing him to do it, killing him to leave Peter in danger, but he can’t take these guys alone, not without risking the kid, and he needs to give the team time to get all the way across the country.

 

That’s assuming they even got the distress signal before FRIDAY shut off completely, but the Compound’s FRIDAY should still be up and running. Failing that, if she’s affected too, then someone will figure out that something’s wrong. It’s just a question of how much time that takes.

 

Time is something he doesn’t have a lot of right now.

 

The men that had stayed with him point him down to the lab and the leader can barely hide his stupid grin.

 

“Stark’s is open for business.” Tony claps his hands together. One man jumps. “First order of the day. What’re we having?”

 

“As you can probably tell, my men and I are a crack team.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

The leader doesn’t notice his sarcasm. “With the right firepower, we’ll be the best. That’s where you come in.”

 

Tony tries very, very hard not to roll his eyes.

 

“To start with, I want suits for me and all my men. Fully equipped. If you cooperate, the kid’ll be fine, and we’ll see if we can come to a more…permanent agreement.”

 

Who do these guys think they are? This isn’t Afghanistan. They’ve broken into Tony’s own home, with a fully stocked lab and a small army of suits, and they really expect him to just roll over?

 

He doesn’t have his housing unit, though – Pepper made him leave it in New York. The only suits he has are stored in the lab wall, and there’s no way he can get to them before they notice.

 

It’s killing him to play along, but he has to for the moment. It’s true, it’s not Afghanistan; it’s not just his safety on the line this time.

 

So he reminds himself that this is for Peter and gets to work.

 

* * *

 

They drag Peter back up the staircase and into his room. Westcott, now he’s not pointing a gun at the back of Peter’s head, is a well-built blond man with an icy glare.

 

“Oh the bed,” Westcott orders. More men follow him, covering the door, the bathroom and the windows.

 

Mr Stark was right; there are a lot of them, too many to fight, especially if he doesn’t want to expose himself.

 

Westcott yanks his arms forward roughly and forces his wrists together, wrapping a zip tie around them and pulling it tight. He does the same to Peter’s ankles. “Let’s see you run back to your Mr Stark now, huh?”

 

Peter really thinks he should get a prize for not rolling his eyes at the man, seeing as he could snap the zip ties off without too much effort. Instead, he settles for a simple, “Screw you, asshole.”

 

“No need for that.” Westcott’s eyes travel down Peter’s body and up again, making him shift uncomfortably. “You can call me Skip.”

 

“I’d really rather not.”

 

“Keep talking and I’ll find something to shut you up.”

 

This time, Peter does roll his eyes.

 

“Better make sure he stays tied down,” another man says. “Stark probably takes ‘em smart.”

 

“Sure. Got any more ties?”

 

They push Peter back so he’s sitting against the headboard and pull his arms over his head to loop more zip ties through and around.

 

“Wow, you really that scared of a teenager?” Peter mutters.

 

Westcott smirks. “Guys, go check out the perimeter.”

 

A couple of the other men shift uncomfortably. “We’re supposed to be watching the kid.”

 

“Kid’s tied to the bed. Where’s he gonna go? Go stake out the perimeter.”

 

“Fine.”

 

The instant it’s just the two of them, Peter’s unease spikes. “Hope you’re feeling _really_ good about yourself, keeping one whole teenager prisoner when he can’t even run away.”

 

“That’s it.” Westcott yanks the closet open and pulls out one of the ties Mr Stark got Peter for SI functions. “Time to shut up, kid.”

 

He makes a move like he’s about to shove it in Peter’s mouth.

 

 _No_.

 

“No, get off me-!” Panicking, Peter draws his legs up and kicks Westcott in the chest, hard. The man flies at least ten feet through the air and hits the opposite wall.

 

Shit.

 

Westcott staggers to his feet as the other men run back in, taking in the scene in shock.

 

“You okay, man?”

 

“He’s not a fucking intern,” Westcott snarls. “He’s a mutant.”

 

Double shit.

 

They cut through the zip ties that loop around the headboard but leave his wrists bound, pulling him back down towards the lab. Peter’s too shocked to even think about fighting them.

 

And now they know who he is.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony glances up at the sound of footsteps, but stops working completely when Westcott and the rest of the men come storming in. Three of them are half-dragging Peter between them and they all but throw him at Tony’s feet.

 

“Pete.” He kneels next to him and reaches out, frowning when he feels the kid shaking with barely held-back sobs. “Are you hurt? What the hell did they do to you?”

 

“Something you’d like to tell us about the brat?” Westcott demands.

 

“How about you tell me what you did to him, and I’ll decide how quickly I let you die?”

 

“What kind of a freak is he?”

 

 _Fuck_. They know. Peter must have done something to reveal himself, but there are zip ties still around his wrists and he let the men drag him around, so Tony can’t begin to think how they found out.

 

“Hey.” Tony ignores the men and pulls Peter up gently so he’s kneeling. “Peter?”

 

Peter looks up and meets his gaze. He’s pale and he’s worrying his lip. He looks about two seconds away from bursting into tears.

 

“Everyone out. Guard the doors.”

 

“I thought you didn’t want them together?”

 

“Just leave the kid in here,” another man says dismissively. “Stark knows what’s gonna happen if he tries anything.”

 

“Yessir.”

 

“But sir,” Westcott says, “that kid’s strong, and probably smart, too.”

 

The leader snorts. “We’re in a basement, Westcott. What do you think they’re gonna do, tunnel out?”

 

“I just think I should keep an eye on the kid.”

 

Tony snaps his head up and glares, daring them to try and take Peter again.

 

“Yeah, no. I know what you’re like. Come on, out.”

 

They all file out but stay on the other side of the glass wall, doing their best to look threatening.

 

“Okay,” Tony says. Some instinct is telling him he has to go slowly. “It’s just us, Pete. I’m not mad. Just tell me how they know.”

 

“I’m sorry. He just – I freaked and kinda…kicked him across the room.”

 

“That Westcott guy?”

 

Peter nods.

 

“What did he do?”

 

Peter swallows and looks down. “He was trying to – um, to gag me.”

 

“Did he do anything else?”

 

“No, no.”

 

“Okay, good.” Tony can’t help but slump in relief; something about the man had made him want to raise his hackles and snarl. “I’m sorry, kid, I shouldn’t have let them split us up.”

 

“Wasn’t your fault.” Peter glances at the mess on Tony’s workbench. “What do they want?”

 

“Suits for themselves, because bad guys have no originality.” With a snort, Tony climbs to his feet and pulls Peter up with him. “Which we’re going to build, of course. Until the others get here, which better be soon, before they figure out the connection between you and the Spider-Man suit hanging over there.”

 

“Will the others come?”

 

“Listen, either FRIDAY in New York knows something’s wrong out here, or FRIDAY in New York is shot as well. Either way, someone’s going to notice.”

 

“But we’re going to do what they want?”

 

“No, we’re pretending to, and it’ll keep us alive as long as they don’t look too close. I’ve been here before.”

 

Peter nods and tenses his arms and legs, snapping the zip ties off easily. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

 

“Can I get that in writing?”

 

* * *

 

They do a good job of looking busy while actually barely working. Peter has to laugh at how impressive it looks, sparks flying everywhere and tools and pieces of tech strewn across the benches.

 

“This looks alright, huh, Pete?” Mr Stark holds up a boot.

 

“Yeah, as long as you can’t tell that boot jet is just a torch.”

 

Mr Stark grins and throws the boot back on the workbench.

 

The men behind the glass aren’t even watching them anymore, clearly bored. Peter’s eyes keep straying to his suit, stored in the lab wall beside the old Iron Man ones.

 

“Don’t even think about it,” Mr Stark warns without looking up.

 

“Sorry, when did you develop eyes in the back of your head?”

 

“When I had a second child. Gotta keep an eye on both of you.”

 

The lights flicker for a second and Mr Stark grins. “Hey, girl. Welcome back.”

 

FRIDAY’s voice comes out of the tablet on the work table instead of the walls. _“Sorry I was gone so long, Boss.”_

 

“You’re back now, don’t worry. Is help on the way?”

 

_“Two minutes out.”_

 

“Okay, good.”

 

As if on cue, the men outside the lab pick up their weapons and run, not even glancing through the glass.

 

Peter turns to Mr Stark. “Spider-Man time?”

 

“Spider-Man time.”

 

* * *

 

Peter’s almost disappointed that, by the time he and Mr Stark get upstairs, Natasha and Clint have finished laying out all the intruders.

 

“Well, that was strenuous,” Mr Stark says, stepping out of his suit. “What do you think, Pete? Another week’s vacation?”

 

“That sounds good,” Peter agrees.

 

Natasha pulls one of Clint’s arrows out of a man’s chest and hands it back to him with a smirk. “I mean, you’re welcome, Stark. Had it handled all by yourself?”

 

“Basically. I had Spider-Man.” Mr Stark throws an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “All the backup I need.”

 

Peter smiles at that, leaning into his hold.

 

“How’d they manage it?” Clint says. “Did they hack FRIDAY?”

 

“Yeah. I’ll have to make a couple of changes to her coding.”

 

“You’re both all right, though?” Natasha glances between them.

 

Mr Stark’s arm tightens around Peter’s shoulders for a second. “Yeah.”

 

They will be, Peter thinks, once Mr Stark installs fifty new protocols into FRIDAY and starts letting Peter out of his sight again. They will be.


	20. time travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony glares. “Prove it.”
> 
>  
> 
> “I’m sorry?”
> 
>  
> 
> “Show me that was the only way. What if Peter didn’t have to die? What if you just let Thanos kill my sorry ass? Show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's like 1:45 and i have a 9am lecture end me.
> 
> warnings for not really character death and a tiny bit of non-graphic torture

_“Boss, Doctor Strange is here to see you.”_

 

“Oh, terrific.”

 

He’s suddenly glad he didn’t program FRIDAY with the ability to sigh, but she does sound like she’d be rolling her eyes if she had any. _“So, should I let him in?”_

 

“May as well. He’ll just portal in otherwise.” Tony puts down the upgrade to Morgan’s crib he was working on and wipes his hands.

 

“Tony.” Strange walks in, dressed in his tunic and with the Cloak resting on his shoulders, and Tony forgets his resolution to be polite.

 

“Strange.” He picks up a faulty gauntlet just to look busy.

 

“Can we talk?”

 

“Aren’t we?”

 

Strange smiles. “Can’t help but feel you’re harbouring some resentment.”

 

“Really? What gives you that idea?” Yes, Tony can be civil with Strange, he’ll work with him, but he’s not about to go explore their deep-seated issues.

 

“Just an inkling.”

 

Tony rips wires out of the suit arm harder than necessary.

 

“Tony-“

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Strange.”

 

“I want to know why you hate me. I mean, I really thought we were hitting it off before, you know, I died.”

 

Tony can’t help the harsh laugh that bursts out of him. He knows part of the reason Strange gets on his nerves is because they’re so similar. “Yeah. You died, half of the freaking universe died, _Peter_ died-“

 

Yep. Already said more than he meant to.

 

“Are you still pissed I gave the Stone to Thanos? Really? I saved your life.”

 

“I didn’t ask you to.” Tony takes a long drink from his coffee. “And half the universe died, because of me, and you sat there and told me it was the only way. Right before I held my dying kid in my arms and watched him disappear.”

 

“You know it had to be you.”

 

“I know that _now_.” Tony points a screwdriver at him. “Four years, Strange. Four years of mourning and blaming myself and wondering what I could be doing differently, because if it was the only way…well, I didn’t see it for a while.”

 

“I-“

 

“And you just sat there with fourteen million futures in that irritating head of yours and didn’t even think to share with the rest of the class.”

 

“It’s not my place to interfere with other people’s decisions; all I could do was play my own part and let them play theirs.”

 

“And my part was to live, is that it?”

 

“It was.” Strange looks at the floor. “And Peter’s, as callous as it sounds, was to die.”

 

Tony very carefully puts his screwdriver down on the workbench in case he gives in to the temptation to fling it at Strange’s head.

 

“Without that, without you losing him, you never would have fixed what Thanos did.”

 

“So, you’re telling me,” Tony says through gritted teeth, “that you saw…all of that. You saw him scared and crying, you saw my pain and my grief, and you decided it was – some kind of fucking motivation? A plot device in your little campaign to save the universe? You made that call-!”

 

“I made the only call I could.” Oh, he’s so infuriatingly calm, almost smug; Tony’s regretting putting that screwdriver out of reach now. “There was no other future that worked, Tony.”

 

Tony glares. “Prove it.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Show me that was the only way. What if Peter didn’t have to die? What if you just let Thanos kill my sorry ass? Show me.”

 

Strange sighs, the first signs of trepidation flickering across his face, but he gestures to his necklace and a green glow fills the lab.

 

* * *

 

The orange dirt of Titan blows up into Tony’s face, and he spends a good minute trying to get his breathing under control.

 

“No one can see us.” He jumps; he’d almost forgotten about Strange beside him. “We’re just observing possible alternate timelines. These versions of us don’t even exist.”

 

A blast of purple light makes Tony jump; there he is, younger and bloody and battered, going toe to toe with Thanos.

 

He knows this dance; he’s done it a thousand times in his nightmares, but a phantom pain still shoots through his gut when Thanos impales him with his own dagger.

 

“Hurt like a bitch,” he mutters.

 

Strange smiles. “This me isn’t going to give up the Stone for you. I won’t get the chance before Peter jumps in to save you.”

 

“And?”

 

“Peter’s going to die.”

 

Tony sucks in a breath. “I don’t…”

 

“A real death. No hope of ever getting him back.”

 

“I hope they remember you-“

 

“Mr Stark!”

 

Thanos looks up in time to see a blur, glinting in the orange light, shoot towards him. He swings his fist and catches Peter with a brutal punch, sending him crashing to the ground. He doesn’t move.

 

No, Peter’s always active, always moving, even in his sleep. This is unnatural.

 

The other Tony seems to notice as well, an inhuman sound coming from deep in his chest. It’s like something’s broken inside him.

 

“He needed to be taken by the Stone,” Strange says. “Without the possibility of seeing him again…well…”

 

Titan fades away and they’re suddenly standing in Shuri’s lab in Wakanda. Bruce and Shuri are staring at plans for a gauntlet, but it’s nothing like the one they eventually came up with. Even Thor and his Asgardian warrior, Valkyrie, are glaring at it like it’s personally offended them.

 

“I don’t understand,” Shuri says. She looks close to tears.

 

“Stark should be here,” Thor mutters.

 

Bruce rubs his eyes underneath his glasses. “True, Tony understands weapons better than anyone, but he won’t…I don’t think he’s left his room in weeks.”

 

“We need him-“

 

“He watched a kid die, Shuri. Even if we do manage to reverse this, he won’t get Spider-Man back.”

 

“it’s been seven years,” Shuri says.

 

“No, hang on.” Tony frowns at them. “We fixed it in four.”

 

“With you helping them. In this timeline, they try to reverse the Snap for the rest of their lives with no success.”

 

“No, Shuri did most of the legwork-“

 

“But not all of it. Besides, they have no one to wield the gauntlet.” Strange sighs. "I know you think you're unimportant, Stark, but – and it's killing me to say this – you were vital in this war."

 

“Oh,” Tony says quietly. “But – no, there must be other timelines.”

 

“About fourteen million of them.”

 

The lab fades away and red dust starts to swirl beneath Tony’s feet again.

 

* * *

 

He’s back watching himself fight Thanos.

 

“Again? Come on. How many times am I watching myself get stabbed today?”

 

“This was your idea.” Strange nods to the scene in front of them as Thanos raises the gauntlet. “Peter’s going to jump in and save you instead of me again.”

 

Sure enough, a tiny blur of red and blue drops from nowhere and throws Thanos off-balance.

 

Past Tony shouts something roughly, but he’s trying hard not to let Thanos see how terrified he is.

 

It doesn’t work. Thanos snatches Peter out of the air and points the gauntlet at him, purple tendrils keeping him in place no matter how much he struggles.

 

“This,” Thanos rumbles, “can cause the worst pain in the universe. I’m interested to try it out on someone who isn’t Asgardian.”

 

Past Tony just stares. God, he was so repressed; funny how losing someone and tearing the universe apart to get them back again really lets you open up to them.

 

Peter clenches his jaw, but Tony knows him too well. He’s terrified.

 

“The Stone, Wizard.”

 

Past Strange doesn’t move.

 

“Very well.”

 

And Peter screams.

 

It’s the worst sound Tony’s ever heard. If he heard a stranger making that noise, he’d want to curl up in a ball and cover his ears, but hearing it in Peter’s voice-

 

“Strange!” Past Tony yells. “Give him the Stone, give him the fucking Stone-!”

 

Peter’s screams turn to sobs, harsh and gasping. Thanos is watching him like he’s a science experiment, his left fist still clenched.

 

Past Strange shudders and looks down, but Peter’s screams suddenly kick up a notch and he jumps to his feet. “All right! I’ll give you the Stone-“

 

“No…” Peter groans. Thanos releases him and he drops to the ground as the Time Stone floats away from Strange.

 

Thanos shrugs off Quill’s sudden dive-bombing and slips away through a portal.

 

Past Tony gathers a trembling Peter into his arms and rounds on Strange. “What the hell took you so long?”

 

“I told you I would die before giving up the Time Stone.”

 

“Well, congratulations: you didn’t.”

 

Peter stays huddled into Past Tony, still shaking.

 

“So what?” Tony asks. “I don’t understand.”

 

“You don’t blame yourself here; Peter does. For about five minutes.”

 

“Something’s happening…” Mantis says, and then she’s gone.

 

“You’re not motivated by your own guilt. As sorry as I was to give you that burden…”

 

“I get it. I needed it to make me find a solution.” Tony can’t help that he sounds a little bitter.

 

Quill and Drax fade away, followed by the other Strange. They both know what’s coming next.

 

“Don’t make me watch this again,” Tony says. He relives this far too much already in his dreams.

 

Strange nods and waves his hand, but not in time to stop them hearing a familiar, shaky, “Mr Stark?”

 

* * *

 

Tony’s getting very tired of Titan appearing in his vision. “And this one?”

 

“This time I, in your words, let Thanos kill your sorry ass.”

 

Sure enough, Strange stays silent and a flash of white light makes Tony wince and squint. The other him yells once and vanishes.

 

Commotion ensues.

 

“Mr Stark!”

 

“Holy shit, did you _see_ that?”

 

“Thanos will take no more lives!”

 

The others rally, mostly under Peter’s half-hysterical orders, and Tony can’t help but feel a twinge of pride for his kid. Eventually, when Nebula gets a little too close to severing his left arm as Peter webs it to the floor, Thanos seems to give up.

 

He opens a portal, growls, “I’ll see you soon, wizard,” and disappears.

 

Peter slumps to his knees, shaking with sobs, but he’s alive.

 

“What’s wrong with this one?” Tony asks.

 

“Other than the fact the kid is traumatised?” Strange quirks one eyebrow. “We return to Earth, where Thanos has already taken the Mind Stone. A few days later, he threatens someone who, although she’s very dear to me, does not have the means to save the universe as you do. Peter dies on the subway, along with half the universe.”

 

Tony swallows at the idea of Peter disappearing alone, without anyone to hold him. “And?”

 

“There’s no Tony Stark to save them. One way or another, Thanos would get the Stone. It’s just a question of whether anyone could reverse it.”

 

“I refuse to believe that you handing over the Stone is the only pivotal moment in all this.”

 

“You’re right. It’s not.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s coming, it’s coming, I got it-!”

 

Tony frowns as Peter pulls on the gauntlet. “Why now?”

 

“Just watch.”

 

Thanos flings Mantis away but rather than doing the same to Peter, he yanks him closer and grabs his upper arm.

 

“Get off me-!”

 

“You are very brave for one so young.”

 

“Parker!” Past Tony dives towards him but Thanos sweeps his right arm around and sends him flying.

 

“Mr Stark!” Peter screams. He struggles, but Thanos has a firm grip on his arm. He starts to walk, dragging Peter behind him.

 

“Strange!” Tony grabs the other man’s arm in a panic. “He’s taking my kid!”

 

“This isn’t real,” Strange says. “It never happened.”

 

Past Tony gasps weakly, reaching out an arm. Thanos raises his left arm and disappears into a portal, pulling Peter with him.

 

“Peter!” Past Tony yells. “ _Peter_!”

 

Tony realises he’s gripping Strange’s arm a little too hard, but he doesn’t care. If Thanos had even thought about taking Peter like that – Tony suddenly wishes he’d killed him slower.

 

“I think you can imagine what you did.” Strange waves his hands. “Let’s go…a month later.”

 

Tony blinks.

 

They’re at the Sanctum, a limp body on the floor, and Peter, dressed all in black, is striding past them. Strange’s necklace is dangling from his hand.

 

“Pete?” Tony knows he can’t hear him, but something is very wrong. Peter is pale, his face expressionless, and there’s a strange blue sheen over his eyes. “How is he here? I thought Thanos-“

 

“He’s on a mission from Thanos, to retrieve the Stone.” Strange nods to his own crumpled body. “I trusted this Peter just enough to let my guard down. He was able to slip past my spell and take the Stone.”

 

“Peter wouldn’t ever-“

 

“Thanos has the Mind Stone. You saw what it could do in the hands of Loki. Imagine it combined with four other Stones. Thanos has done this before, with Nebula, Gamora, Loki: he tortures people, twists their will to his and calls it love. I’m sure Nebula told you she would have preferred death over what he did to her.”

 

She had. Long days and sleepless nights on a broken, drifting ship had given them time, time for stories and bonding over shitty fathers. He'd rather die than ever let Peter suffer through what she had to.

 

“I don’t…” Tony rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell us what you saw.”

 

Strange smirks. “Demanding, aren’t you?”

 

* * *

 

This time, Tony isn’t surprised to find himself standing on red dirt, watching the past version of himself crouching in front of Strange.

 

“How many did you see?”

 

“One.”

 

Tony still remembers the dull throb of panic that single word had caused.

 

“Just one?” Peter asks shakily. Quill gives him an awkward pat on the shoulder that’s probably meant to be comforting.

 

“I need to talk to you, Stark,” Past Strange murmurs. “This one future hinges on you.”

 

Past Tony nods and leans in closer. “What do I need to do?”

 

“I will need to give up the Stone to save your life-“

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“This _needs_ to happen, Stark.”

 

“And then what? We beat him?”

 

“No. Thanos gets what he wants. It’s up to you to undo it.”

 

“But that means half the universe…”

 

Past Strange nods.

 

“Who survives? Do you?” Past Tony freezes. “Does Peter?”

 

Strange’s silence is all the answer he needs, and Tony can see the instant his other self comes to a decision.

 

“Right.” Strange sighs; he's doing a lot of that. “And now, at the critical moment…”

 

The scene changes: Thanos pointing his gauntlet at Tony just as Strange calls for him to stop.

 

Past Tony throws an arm behind him with a wince of pain and shoots Past Strange, stunning him and sending him tumbling backwards.

 

“Now, what was that for?” Without waiting for an answer, Thanos ignites the gauntlet and Tony disappears in a flash of white light.

 

“See?” Strange says. “You’re still dead. Thanos will still find a way to get the Stone. Telling you wouldn’t have helped in the slightest.”

 

* * *

 

The next time Tony blinks, they’re back in the lab.

 

“Don’t you see?” Strange says. “You needed all of it – the loss, the grief, the guilt. Without it, you’d be living in a very different world today. One that would almost certainly be without Peter, whether you survived or not. I’m sorry it had to happen this way, but-“

 

Tony nods, his simmering resentment dissolving into resignation. “It was the only way.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Hey, Mr Stark!”

 

Tony turns just in time to see Peter bounce into the lab. “Hey, Underoos.”

 

“Oh, hey, Doctor Strange! Oh! You started that thing for Morgan?”

 

Tony watches as he spins into a blur of activity around the lab, alive and unharmed and so very _Peter_ , and feels a sudden pang for everything he might have lost, everything he might never have known. When the Peter Parker whirlwind comes within arm’s length, he reaches out and grabs him in a hug.

 

He’s never been so grateful that Peter is one of those people who hugs back unquestioningly.

 

“Pete,” Tony says, “you know I love you, right?” Peter stiffens in surprise and starts to pull away, and Tony hurriedly adds, “Just don’t think I say it enough.”

 

Peter tilts his head and stares at him with a quizzical expression. “Okay, Doctor Strange, what did you give him and can I have some?”

 

“Pete-“

 

The kid breaks out into a shit-eating grin. “Kidding! I’m kidding, Mr Stark.”

 

“You little shit-“

 

“I love you, too.” Peter says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Are you okay? You look kinda…I don’t know, windswept?”

 

“Everything’s fine.”

 

“Exactly as it should be,” Doctor Strange adds.

 

“All right, fine, be cryptic.” Peter shrugs. “Are we finishing this thing for Morgan or what?”

 

Strange nods. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, I think. I’ll be off.”

 

“See you! Bye, Cloakie!”

 

“Stephen?” Tony holds his gaze for a second. “Thank you. For everything.”

 

Strange glances at Peter, happy and laughing as the Cloak lifts one corner and waves, and smiles back. “Of course.”


	21. insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One child not sleeping is manageable. Two is not, especially because one is a teenager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a perfect chapter to write when i'm sleep-deprived.
> 
> so you guys were too nice to end me but that 9am nearly did lol. although, if you follow me on tumblr, you can follow the wonderful journey through blade runner i had at far too early in the morning. because i’m sleepy and not feeling well, have some self-indulgent fluff.

The baby monitor crackles and Morgan’s cries fill the bedroom.

 

Tony and Pepper both groan.

 

“I’ll get her,” Tony mumbles. “You’ve got work in the morning.”

 

Pepper just makes a noise of agreement and rolls over.

 

Tony stumbles out of the bedroom and to the next door down. “Hey, baby. Hey.” He reaches into the crib, smiling at the way Peter’s pet name, from before they even started thinking about names for her, has stuck with them. “You gotta stop waking your mommy up like this. She’s a very busy lady.”

 

Morgan snuffles and throws a little hand out of her blankets.

 

“What does that mean? Yes, no?” Tony makes a mental note to research child language acquisition. “Tell me more, oh wise one.”

 

“Ahh!” The wise one grabs a handful of his beard and pulls. Hard.

 

Tony winces. “‘Ah’ is right. Come on, why aren’t you tired yet?”

 

“Bababa!”

 

“Shh, shh.” Tony rocks her gently. “I’d sing, but neither of us want to hear that.” He looks back at Morgan’s crib and an idea hits him. “Let’s look at the…the hangy thing. What’s it called? The mobile! Baby mobile.”

 

It had been Peter’s idea to get her one, but he couldn’t just buy one. No, this one was homemade.

 

“Look, here’s little Iron Man. That’s me, you know that? And right next to him is mini Spider-Man.” Morgan’s happy babbling increases when Tony twirls the Spider-Man figure. “Oh, you like him better? Well, that’s just typical. I mean, he is better, but that’s beside the point.” He flicks the little cutout of Steve’s shield. “And what do we say to Captain Icepop?”

 

Morgan sticks her tongue out.

 

“Exactly! We-“ Tony blows a raspberry.

 

A few slow laps around the room later, Morgan’s head starts to droop.

 

“That’s it,” Tony breathes. When he’d taken the whining newborn from the midwife, he remembers thinking he could hold her forever. Clearly, his baby brain hadn’t thought about forever including three in the morning; it’s with a slightly guilty sigh of relief that he sets Morgan back down and stumbles back to bed.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, I’m home!” Peter shouts into Mr Stark’s apartment in the Compound. He’s only half-joking.

 

No one answers.

 

Okay. Strange. He ended patrol early, so it’s still what could reasonably be called ‘evening’ rather than what Mr Stark likes to call ‘the asscrack of the night, Parker, I thought you were an intruder’.

 

To be fair, he’s toned down his swearing a fair bit since Morgan was born, unless Peter does something really stupid.

 

He slings his backpack on the ground and walks down the hall towards the kitchen. No one’s in there.

 

“Mr Stark?” He frowns at the silent room. “Pepper?”

 

He listens for a moment and picks up a snore from the sitting room.

 

Grinning to himself, he makes his way back down the hallway and peers through the door.

 

Pepper and Mr Stark are sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep. Pepper is still in her suit from work, and she’s holding Morgan against her chest.

 

Morgan stirs and snuffles, a string of drool dribbling from her mouth.

 

Yes, babies are undeniably cute, but they’re gross. As long as you accept that, you’re fine.

 

“Hey, Morgan,” Peter whispers. He crosses to the couch and gently lifts her out of Pepper’s grip. “Shall we leave Mom and Dad to get some sleep, huh?”

 

It’s not until he’s halfway out of the door that he realises he’d called Mr Stark and Pepper Mom and Dad.

 

Morgan gurgles, bringing him back to reality.

 

“Exactly.” Peter walks towards his bedroom, every so often giving Morgan a little bounce. “May warned them, didn’t she? New parents just get wiped out.”

 

Morgan tugs at the neck of his suit and babbles happily.

 

“God, you’re so smart, baby.” He laughs at himself a little; he was the one who started using ‘baby’ like a nickname rather than saying ‘the baby’, and now everyone does it. “What shall we do, hm? YouTube?”

 

He opens his laptop on his bed with one hand, balancing Morgan against his hip with the other. He’s no longer worried about hurting her with his strength; it’s second nature to hold her carefully.

 

“What are we watching today?” Peter quickly closes the Buzzfeed Unsolved video about missing children. Definitely not. “Vines?”

 

“Ah!”

 

“You’re _right_. No swears.”

 

* * *

 

Tony wakes up mid-snore, running a hand over his face, and turns to Pepper. “Where’s Morgan?”

 

She frowns at her empty lap, barely awake herself.

 

_“Boss, Morgan is with Peter.”_

 

“Oh, thank God. What are they doing?”

 

_“Watching YouTube.”_

 

“He’s got her…” Tony yawns so wide his jaw clicks. “Got her handled.”

 

“Okay,” Pepper mumbles, kicking her feet up into Tony’s lap, “five more minutes.”

 

Five more minutes sounds good.

 

* * *

 

“Is it nearly time for your dinner?” Peter checks the clock. It’s nearly eight. “Ooh, way past dinner time. I feel bad about waking your mom up, though.”

 

Morgan’s face crumples.

 

“No, no, no, no, no! Don’t cry! I’ll get her, I’m sorry.” Peter realises he’s still in his suit, even after coming off patrol hours ago, but Morgan’s starting to whine. “Come on.”

 

By the time he gets to the sitting room, Pepper and Mr Stark are already stirring at the sound of Morgan’s cries.

 

“Sorry,” Peter says, “she’s hungry.”

 

“Thank you.” Pepper takes Morgan and sits at the kitchen table to start heating up some milk for her.

 

“Thanks for looking after her, kid,” Mr Stark mumbles.

 

“No problem.” Peter joins him on the couch. “You both looked pretty tired.”

 

“You have no idea.” Mr Stark rubs his eyes with a groan. “And I’m just the trophy house husband. I don’t know how Pep manages to go to work, run a whole damn company, and come home to a baby.”

 

“I don’t know, either,” Pepper calls from beside the microwave.

 

“You staying tonight?” Mr Stark checks his phone. “It’s only eight, what time did you get off patrol?”

 

“Got here, like, seven. It seemed quiet. Um, I’ll stay, if that’s all right.”

 

“Of course it is.” Pepper walks back over with Morgan’s bottle. “We haven’t eaten yet. What do you want?”

 

“He’s gonna say pizza,” Mr Stark says.

 

“Well…”

 

“Called it.”

 

“Only if you guys want it, though!”

 

“Kid, you could put a school cafeteria lunch in front of me and I’d eat it.”

 

“New parents,” Peter says sagely.

 

“And don’t we know it?” Pepper smiles down at Morgan. “That’s _right_ , you _drink_ it. I thought you were harassing your brother because you wanted it.”

 

Morgan tries to gurgle in response, but just ends up spraying baby formula everywhere.

 

Pepper doesn’t even flinch. “I’ll clean that up later.”

 

* * *

 

Peter doesn’t like to sleep.

 

Okay, no. That’s not true. He’s a teenager. He loves sleep. What he doesn’t like is everything that flashes behind his closed eyelids when the Compound goes quiet.

 

It’s been more than a year since Thanos – no, more than a year since everyone was brought back. It’s nearly five years for everyone who was left behind.

 

Maybe that’s why he seems to be the only one who’s still haunted by it.

 

Or maybe it’s because he felt every second of every atom in his body flaking and peeling away while his healing tried to keep him together. It was excruciating, almost painful enough to override the panic that he was going to die.

 

He can’t ever tell Mr Stark that, though. He flinches every time Titan is so much as mentioned; they had to turn off Hercules a few weeks ago. No, Peter has to deal with it by himself.

 

And he is. Completely healthily.

 

Which is why, when Morgan starts crying at four in the morning, he’s already awake.

 

“Heyy, what is it this time?” He scoops her up easily. “Your parents are very busy people, you know? They need sleep.”

 

He offers her his finger and lets her grab it with both hands.

 

“Fingers, right? How cool? You’ve got some, too. All ten of them.”

 

A movement in the corner of his eye makes him jump, but it’s just Mr Stark, standing in the doorway and watching the two of them with an indescribably gentle expression.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Mr Stark murmurs. “Thanks.”

 

“No worries. I was-“ Peter snaps his mouth shut. “Uh, I don’t mind.”

 

“You were what?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Parker,” Mr Stark hisses, one eye on a dozing Morgan.

 

“Don’t wake her up,” Peter says under his breath. Morgan’s little hands release his finger, her eyes droop shut and Peter puts her back down in her crib.

 

Mr Stark is still staring at him. “Kitchen. Now.”

 

FRIDAY sets the kettle boiling and they sit in awkward, tired silence for a moment.

 

“Are you not sleeping?”

 

“I sleep,” Peter says, indignant.

 

“How often?” Peter starts to answer and Mr Stark points a finger at him. “Don’t lie. I wrote the book on sleep deprivation long before you or your sister came along.”

 

If Peter wasn’t so tired, he’d be thrilled at Mr Stark casually including him as one of the family. Instead, he sighs. “I try, okay? It’s just…hard.”

 

Mr Stark looks at him. “Hard how?”

 

“I…”

 

“Dreams? Flashbacks?”

 

“…yeah. How’d you-?”

 

Mr Stark taps the side of his head. “New York screwed me over real good, as if Afghanistan wasn’t bad enough. So, come on: tell me.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Why not?” The kettle beeps and Mr Stark turns away to fill two mugs. At least he isn’t staring Peter down anymore.

 

“You’ll feel bad and it’s not your problem, anyway.”

 

“Hello, thought I was dealing with a genius here? You’re my kid. If you’re having problems, I need to help. I want to help you, Peter, please.” Mr Stark sets a mug down in front of him. “Camomile tea. Pepper was obsessed when she was pregnant; used to drop her better than sleeping pills. Come on, out with it, Underoos.”

 

Peter takes a sip just to avoid looking Mr Stark in the eyes. “I died.”

 

Silence.

 

“And I know you saved me, but…I took longer…” The words come out awkward and twisted; he’s never just laid it out like this. “I – no, I’m not telling you.”

 

“ _Pete_.”

 

Just that one word, choked and cracked, breaks the floodgates wide open. “It _hurt_ , Mr Stark. I asked the others, and they said it was like blinking and waking up again, but I could feel it-“ A sobs rips out of his throat. “I felt it coming, and it just – it wouldn’t end.”

 

Mr Stark rounds the island and pulls Peter into his arms, letting him cry into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should’ve noticed you…yeah. I didn’t even think about that.”

 

“‘S’okay.”

 

They stay like that until Peter's sobs trail off into dry hiccups and Mr Stark has to microwave the tea. When he's set it going, he pulls Peter into his side.

 

"Do you feel better, getting it off your chest?"

 

"A little, yeah."

 

"Hold onto that feeling the next time you want to bottle it all up again." A hand ruffles his hair gently before Mr Stark pulls back and hands him the mug again. “Finish that, and then we’re wiping out on the couch.”

 

“Impromptu slumber party?” Peter finishes the tea and feels himself relax a little.

 

“Emphasis on _slumber_.” Mr Stark drains his own mug and starts towards the sitting room. “Look, blankets! Oh, apart from that one, I think Morgan dribbled on it.”

 

“Mm.” Peter gathers the blankets and makes a pile on the biggest couch. He sinks down, pulling Mr Stark with him and shamelessly wrapping around him.

 

“Right here, Underoos.” Mr Stark gently scratches the top of his head. “Just sleep. I’m right here.”

 

On Titan, Peter ran to Mr Stark because he meant home, he meant safety. He’d thought Mr Stark could make the pain go away.

 

This time, he does.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, FRIDAY?” Tony asks, nursing a cup of coffee the next morning. “I was really sleep-deprived last night, but I think – did I call Peter my kid?”

 

She doesn’t answer, but pulls up the security footage on his phone. It reads 4:09AM.

 

_“Hello, thought I was dealing with a genius here? You’re my kid.”_

 

“Oops.” That was…presumptuous, to say the least, although at least Peter looks too tired to argue.

 

 _“Boss, if I may?”_ FRIDAY changes the video to a clip of the sitting room at 7:07PM the day before.

 

Tony and Pepper are wiped out on the couch and Peter is lifting Morgan out of Pepper’s arms. _“Hey, Morgan. Shall we leave Mom and Dad to get some sleep, huh?”_

_Mom and Dad._

 

“Oh.” Tony can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. “Cool.”


	22. regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark regrets a lot of things.
> 
>  
> 
> He's done a lot of stupid shit, but right now he has never regretted anything as much as watching Peter storm out of the lab, snatching his suit up on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CLEAR: i understand both sides in civil war, but if i had to pick one, i would come down on tony’s. this is coming from the bitch with authority issues. as far as i see it, his desire for the avengers to be brought under control is about mostly him and realising that when no one stops him, stuff like ultron happens. of course, this is discussed from tony's point of view here and he doesn’t see it that way; no one is on tony stark’s team less than tony stark.
> 
> i can't believe this challenge is nearly over?? i won't know what to do with myself after february's over

Tony Stark regrets a lot of things.

 

He kept blindly following his father’s footsteps and making weapons until the universe smacked him in the face and showed him exactly why it was a bad idea.

 

He pushed away his friends when he knew the palladium was killing him, the exact moment he should have pulled them closer.

 

He all but created Aldrich Killian and his terrifying obsession with weaponising human beings, and he’d almost lost Pepper.

 

He let fear lead him, fear of losing his friends, his family, the battle for the universe, and made a monster that nearly ended the world. _His fault his fault his fault._

 

He let the Avengers fall apart, instead of just fucking talking to Steve like adults - and yes, maybe Steve was at fault, too, but Tony shouldn’t have been so quick to project his own sudden need to be regulated onto the rest of the team.

 

He _knew_ what Zemo was doing in that bunker, knew it wasn’t really Barnes’s fault, and he let it happen anyway, let his rage take over until Steve drove his shield into the arc reactor and they both stared at each other, no longer recognising the other as a friend.

 

He steamrollered Peter into fighting with him. Yes, he’ll be the first to admit that his life is so much better for having the kid in it, but bringing a fourteen-year-old to fight the Avengers? He still remembers the shock of panic that hit his gut when he saw Peter limp on the floor.

 

He couldn’t catch Rhodey. If he hadn’t let things get so far, if he’d reached out to Steve, maybe explained that confining Wanda wasn’t his idea, if he’d noticed Vision had started getting so damn emotional…

 

He ignored Peter for months after that, stewing in loss and guilt and betrayal. Half of it was worry that this was another potential person to betray Tony, and half of it was terror that this was another potential person for him to break and ruin. He wasn’t going to be his father; the kid was too good for him.

 

And then the ferry. Jesus. He’d yelled and yelled, not recognising his fear and letting it spill out as anger instead. Peter could have died. He realised later, staring at the confiscated suit in his lab and replaying Peter’s shocked expression over and over again – the kid was surprised that he actually turned up, surprised that he cared – that he’d become exactly like his father after all.

 

He’d abandoned a teenager with nothing but an expensive piece of tech and a vague hope he wouldn’t kill himself. He could almost hear Howard laughing his pretentious ass off from the grave.

 

He remembers Happy’s call, sounding like he was walking to his own execution, and the sight of the beach on Coney Island, littered with fires and debris and – was that fucking blood? – just made him pray he wouldn’t be finding a body.

 

For once, something heard his prayers.

 

He fixed it, as well as he could, and Peter just…forgave him. Just like that. Like Tony hadn’t nearly gotten him killed with his stupidity.

 

Maybe…maybe if he’d listened to Strange, if he’d paid more attention to the frightened glint in Peter’s eyes, he would have turned the spaceship around. He played right into Thanos’s hands, going to Titan, and if they’d needed the Guardians – well, Thor met them, too. No, instead he got to watch Strange trade his life for the Time Stone – and with it, half the universe – and hold his terrified kid while he begged for his life.

 

So, yeah. Tony’s done a lot of stupid shit, but right now he has never regretted anything as much as watching Peter storm out of the lab, snatching his suit up on the way.

 

They say never go to bed on an argument, right? How about never let your kid go out and get himself into dangerous situations when he’s clearly pissed and not even in the vicinity of thinking clearly?

 

“Hey.” Rhodey’s voice makes him jump. “Just saw the kid leaving. He looked in a hurry. Everything okay?”

 

Part of Tony wants to cry, but anger is still simmering at the surface so that’s what comes out. “He’ll be fine.”

 

“That’s not what I asked.”

 

“ _Yes_ , Rhodey, everything’s fine. Jesus.”

 

“Okay, just asking.” Rhodey moves further into the lab, his mechanical braces whirring quietly. “Any reason you’re strangling your wrench?”

 

Tony puts the tool back on the bench, wincing at where it had been biting into his palms. “It’s nothing.”

 

“Right. I think you’re forgetting that my sister and Barton both have teenagers, and also I know you too well, so try that again.”

 

“Just a stupid fight.” Tony shrugs. “Like you said: teenager.” He is not equipped for a teenager, he’s starting to realise.

 

Not that Peter is a teenager like some parents would have you believe; he never seems moody or anything like what everyone seems to think teenagers should be.

 

Which is why, when Peter walked in today, hunched over and communicating entirely through grunts and single syllables, Tony was surprised. Then he was pissed off because, as far as he was concerned, whatever was eating at Peter was nothing to do with him.

 

“What’s up, Underoos?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“So, everything’s good?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Really? Whatever’s up with you, why are you taking it out on me?”

 

“I’m not!”

 

“Then why is that the longest sentence you’ve said all afternoon?”

 

Peter just shrugged.

 

“Parker-“

 

“Just drop it!” Peter yelled, and he actually shoved his stool back and stomped out of the lab.

 

Apparently, getting pissed off with an already pissed off teenager is not the right thing to do. Who knew?

 

Tony should have, because his father used to do it all the time.

 

Rhodey’s still staring at him strangely. “So…you gonna…I don’t know, call him?”

 

“Don’t think he wants me to.”

 

“Right. Are you sure Peter’s the one with the teenage attitude?”

 

Tony opens his mouth, a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue, but Rhodey keeps talking.

 

“Parenting is a big deal, okay? But you don’t have to do it alone. You’re not supposed to.”

 

“And what would you know about it?” He regrets the snappy reply as soon as it’s out of his mouth.

 

“Well…” Rhodey says slowly, “I raised your sorry ass and dragged it through college, didn’t I?”

 

Tony blows out a long breath. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

“I know.” Rhodey claps a hand on his shoulder and Tony knows he’s forgiven. “Call the kid.”

 

Tony doesn’t, but he does call May.

 

She answers cheerfully _. “Hi, Tony!”_

 

“Hey. Just checking the kid got home okay.”

 

There’s a long, tense silence. _“Tony, he’s staying with you tonight. Happy got him from school.”_

 

“I know, I know, he was here, but then…he headed off.”

 

He can hear her rolling her eyes. _“What did you do?”_

 

“I don’t know! He was – I don’t want to say moody, but…”

 

 _“So he left?”_ May sounds worried, and Tony’s stomach drops. _“He hasn’t come home.”_

“Shit. FRIDAY, track him. Suit, watch, whatever.”

 

_“Yes, Boss.”_

 

 _“Tony?”_ May says _. “Find him. Find our kid.”_

 

* * *

 

Peter sits on the edge of the office block, kicking his feet against the concrete, and squints against the summer sun. It’s late enough in the evening that the heat isn’t oppressive, even for his shitty thermoregulation, but the building is pleasantly warm beneath him.

 

Oh, yeah, his ribs are probably cracked, but that’s a different issue.

 

He knows Mr Stark is probably looking for him, or at least tracking him, but he’s not dealing with that. Not today.

 

He hears repulsors in the distance and stands, aiming his webshooters.

 

_“You even think about webbing off that building, and you’re grounded.”_

 

Mr Stark can’t see his glare though the Spider-Man mask, but he’s sure it carries over in his tone. “Really?”

 

 _“You better believe it.”_ Mr Stark lands and sits next to him on the edge of the building, flipping his faceplate up. “Nice view. Nice spot up here.”

 

Peter doesn’t answer, suspicious of his sudden change in demeanour.

 

“I was worried.”

 

“You’re always worried,” Peter mutters.

 

“Well, you could’ve been lying dead in an alley, and I’d just let you walk out in a huff.” Mr Stark pauses. “So, we gonna talk about it?”

 

Peter sighs.

 

“I’ll be the first to say: I didn’t give you a chance earlier. You’re allowed to have emotions, you know? I should’ve asked instead of getting pissed in return.”

 

Peter blinks, letting his mask fold back. “That was…surprisingly reasonable.”

 

“Something I am capable of, on occasion.”

 

“Sorry.” Peter kicks his legs again. “You have your own kid, you don’t need to be worrying about me-“

 

“How many times, idiot?” Mr Stark shoots him a fond glare without any real heat behind it. “You are my kid.”

 

Peter sighs again. His ribs twinge.

 

“So what’s up?”

 

“Ned’s graduating today.” Peter glares at a taxi crawling down the street below. “Like, college.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. MJ’s finishing next week.” He knew, logically, that his friends kept living without him for four years, but he’s not even eighteen and they’ve finished college.

 

“That’s shit.” He’s glad Mr Stark doesn’t try to make him feel better. “You probably could’ve gone to college early, though. Do you regret staying at high school?”

 

“No. Loads of people are in the same boat as me. No, it’s just…weird.”

 

“Yeah, I went to college when I was fifteen. Definitely a bad idea. You’re nearly done with high school, though.”

 

“God, that’s even weirder.”

 

“Mm.” They sit in silence for a moment. “You want to go back to May’s, or come to the Compound?”

 

“Compound, please.”

 

“Of course.” Mr Stark gets to his feet. “And don’t think I don’t know about your ribs, young man.”

 

“‘Young man’? Wow, you’re really turning into a dad.” Peter accepts his hand up, stifling a grunt.

 

Mr Stark looks at him.

 

“What?”

 

“I was thinking earlier…I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my life.”

 

Peter laughs. “If you’re expecting me to argue, I’ve got some bad news.”

 

“At least I didn’t fuck you up too badly, huh?”

 

“No,” Peter says, “I don’t think you did.”

 

“Do you regret me gatecrashing your nice, normal life?”

 

“What was normal about it? I was doing parkour in a onesie.”

 

“Thought it wasn’t a onesie?” Mr Stark grins.

 

“Shut up.” But Peter smiles back. “No, I don’t regret it. Of course I don’t.”

 

“You might in a minute, when I drag you down to medical to get your ribs checked out.”

 

“Eh. I’m used to you by now.”

 

“What happened? Because I know I’ve told you before about fighting with a clear head-“

 

“I webbed into a wall.”

 

“…you what?”

 

“I missed my jump and like…splatted on a wall. Someone’s probably put it on the Internet.”

 

Mr Stark’s lips twitch.

 

“You know what? Just laugh. You want to. It’s funny.”

 

“No, I’m _relieved_. I thought you were getting into shady back alley fights.”

 

“That’s, like, stereotyping New Yorkers.”

 

“No, it’s stereotyping reckless superkids. Come on, piggyback.”

 

Peter rolls his eyes.

 

“Or I can carry you like Morgan. You want that?”

 

“Fine.” Peter hops on Mr Stark’s back and his mask folds back over his head. “Thanks, Mr Stark.”

 

“What for?”

 

“I don’t know. Understanding, coming to find me, talking about it.”

 

“I’m not my dad.”

 

Peter thinks of a different time he and Mr Stark stood on top of a building in the evening sun. “No, you’re better.”

 

Mr Stark can’t hide his smile.


	23. addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know caffeine’s addictive?”
> 
>  
> 
> “But I need it.” Mr Stark considers what he’s just said. “Okay, yeah, I can see how that might have sounded bad.”
> 
>  
> 
> “At least you’re self-aware.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, at some point febuwhump became febufluff and i’m not even mad about it. this chapter is just pure crack.
> 
> okay! just to clarify something: when i started this, i never planned for it to be a coherent story, just for all the prompts to take place in a vaguely similar post-endgame universe, and as i kept writing it, it sort of came together on its own, as stories do. some of you understandably got confused (i was too!) so i’ve now gone through the story and changed some details to make sure it flows better. so, from now on, treat this like it is one story. sorry for the confusion!

“Mr Stark?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“That’s your fifth cup today.”

 

“And?”

 

“It’s eleven in the morning.”

 

“I have a five-month-old baby and a teenager intent on making me go prematurely grey. I need caffeine to survive.” Mr Stark frowns. “Wait, no. That’s bad. I’m being a bad example. Do as I say, not as I do, right?”

 

Peter shakes his head with a grin. “You know caffeine’s addictive?”

 

“But I _need_ it.” Mr Stark considers what he’s just said. “Okay, yeah, I can see how that might have sounded bad.”

 

“At least you’re self-aware.” Peter grabs his Spider-Man mug – yes, he can use his own merch – and throws in some hot chocolate powder and milk before microwaving it. He pours the coffee on top.

 

“What the fuck is that?”

 

Peter laughs and stirs a spoon of sugar into his coffee.

 

“What are you doing to it?” Mr Stark sounds scandalised. “You’re killing it.”

 

“I’m improving it!”

 

“That is diabetes in a cup, Parker.”

 

“It’s just a mocha, Mr Stark. You should see some of the crap they have in Starbucks.”

 

“I shudder to think.” Mr Stark takes a sip of his own coffee – black – and frowns at a line of code on the screen in front of him. “What’s all this extra stuff in Karen’s code?”

 

“Hm?” Peter peers over his shoulder. “Oh, that’s her learning new things, right?”

 

“Yeah. My question is: _what_ is she learning?”

 

“I was teaching her about memes.”

 

“Memes?”

 

“Yeah. Vines, Tumblr, Twitter, internet stuff.”

 

“Your generation speaks a whole different language.”

 

“And now Karen speaks it too! But Morgan’s gonna speak a whole different one.”

 

“I can’t wait.”

 

Peter takes another sip of his coffee. “Is it lunchtime yet?”

 

“No.” Mr Stark shoots him a fond grin. “Tell your freaky fast metabolism to respect mealtimes.”

 

“Don’t think it works like that, Mr Stark.”

 

“Go grab a snack if you want, then.”

 

“Want anything?”

 

“Nah, I’m good.”

 

“‘Kay!”

 

Peter brings his coffee with him up to the kitchen counter and starts fixing a sandwich.

 

_“Boss, Colonel Rhodes is here.”_

 

Peter’s just taken a big mouthful of his sandwich when Rhodey walks in. Mr Stark waves from his seat on the couch, still typing with one hand and nursing his coffee with the other.

 

“Hey, man. Hi, Peter.” Rhodey looks at Peter’s mug and wrinkles his nose. “Oh, he’s not getting you hooked on coffee too, is he?”

 

“That is _not_ coffee!” Mr Stark calls from the couch. “That butchered shit that Peter is drinking is not coffee!”

 

“Tony, don’t give the kid your unhealthy habits.”

 

Mr Stark glances up and a brief look of guilt flashes across his face before he grins. “I mean, I’d prefer coffee to getting blackout drunk for three days straight.”

 

“Okay, true.”

 

“I mean, I spent most of the nineties practically paralytic.”

 

“I know, Tony, I was there trying to sober you up.” Rhodey turns back to Peter. “He’s right, kid. Coffee’s better than alcohol.”

 

Peter swallows the last of his sandwich. “You’re acting like I’m a caffeine virgin. I lost that title a long time ago.”

 

Mr Stark spins around, pointing a finger at him. “I don’t want to even think about that analogy in relation to you.”

 

“Like I’m not a high school student that needs to pull all-nighters to get work done.”

 

Rhodey looks horrified. “No. No! Save that for college.”

 

“Gotta practice.”

 

“What the hell is school doing to kids?”

 

“Killing us,” Peter says matter-of-factly, and drains his mug.

 

He has to stifle a laugh at Rhodey’s terrified expression.

 

* * *

 

Pepper’s already awake when Tony gets to the kitchen the next morning, making faces at Morgan in her high chair while her formula spins slowly around in the microwave.

 

“Morning.”

 

“Morning.” She sits up to give him a kiss.

 

“Busy day ahead?”

 

Pepper laughs. “No, it’s Sunday.”

 

“So it is.” Tony starts to make his coffee, retrieving Morgan’s bottle from the microwave and sliding it down the counter. “God, where’s the cereal gone?”

 

“You’re cranky this morning,” Pepper says.

 

“Just need more coffee.” Tony pours more and takes another sip. This time, he actually tastes it. “Oh! What the f- frick? This is decaf!”

 

“Tony!” Pepper says sharply. Morgan giggles and claps her little hands. “Language!”

 

“Has someone changed the coffee? Where’s my coffee?” Tony closes the cupboard and opens it again, like that’s going to make his coffee reappear. “Do we even have decaf in here anymore?”

 

“It’s probably left over from when I was pregnant,” Pepper says.

 

“That doesn’t explain why it’s in my coffee.”

 

“Morning.” Peter mumbles his greeting as he stumbles into the kitchen, his hair messed up and his eyes still half-closed.

 

“Oh, look at _that_ ,” Pepper says brightly to Morgan. “That’s _Peter_ , finally awake.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter rolls his eyes but stops to tickle Morgan’s belly on the way to the toaster.

 

Tony stops, remembering their conversation in the lab yesterday. “Peter, where’s the coffee?”

 

“You have it,” Peter says and pulls a mug out of the cupboard. “Speaking of, can I have some?”

 

Tony lets him pour a cup and top it up with all his unnecessary sweet shit, and watches him take a sip with narrowed eyes.

 

Peter swallows, makes a face and says, “Ew. Decaf.”

 

Either he’s a surprisingly good actor or he really was expecting proper coffee.

 

No. Tony realised within about ten seconds of knowing Peter that he was the worst liar on the planet.

 

“Sorry,” he says out loud.

 

“What?”

 

“I was falsely accusing you of switching out my coffee.”

 

“No…” Peter looks at him strangely. “You weren’t?”

 

“In my head, I was.” Tony groans and buries his head in his hands. “I just want coffee.”

 

“Withdrawal,” Peter says dramatically, and takes another sip.

 

“Why are you still drinking it?”

 

The kid shrugs. “I don’t know. Placebo?”

 

Tony groans again.

 

* * *

 

Not a lot gets done that day. Peter and Mr Stark flop on the couch in the lounge after breakfast while Morgan rolls around on her play mat, and they both stare mindlessly at the television.

 

“Look.” Peter points. “She’s gonna roll over by herself.”

 

“Oh, cool.”

 

They wait for Morgan to push herself onto her front and break out into dramatic applause when she does.

 

“Unprecedented in the history of babies,” Mr Stark tells her, and instantly goes back to his comatose position on the couch.

 

“Is this proof that, like, we’re addicted to coffee?” Peter muses.

 

“What? No. I can go without coffee.” Mr Stark licks his lips. “I have a headache. Do you have a headache?”

 

* * *

 

Pepper walks in an hour later and finds them even more horizontal than before. One of Peter’s hands is hanging off the sofa so he can tickle Morgan’s stomach. Queer Eye is autoplaying on Netflix.

 

“This is pathetic,” she tells them. “I have no sympathy for you.”

 

“Caffeine,” Peter moans.

 

“I can make you tea?”

 

“Coffee or nothing,” Mr Stark declares.

 

“I’ll have tea, please,” Peter says.

 

“Traitor.”

 

“Just doing what I have to, Mr Stark. It’s all about survival now.”

 

“I can’t believe there are two of you,” Pepper mutters under her breath, but Peter’s enhanced hearing picks it up.

 

“Two of what?”

 

“Tiny dramatic children.”

 

“Tiny?” Peter repeats.

 

Mr Stark looks outraged. “Dramatic?”

 

* * *

 

Rhodey appears later in the day, when Morgan’s getting her evening feed and Bobby is explaining the importance of positioning your curtains right.

 

“Petition for Marie Kondo to team up with the Fab Five,” Peter says.

 

Tony grunts. “I don’t know what that means, but sure.”

 

“My God,” Rhodey says. “I feel like I should be cooking you both a fried breakfast. Have you been drinking? Are you hungover?”

 

“I’m dying,” Tony tells him. “Either go get me some caffeine or kindly fuck off.”

 

Rhodey stares at him for a long moment. Then he laughs so hard he has to sit down on the other couch. “ _This_ is what happens? After twenty-four hours without coffee? Yeah, try telling me you’re not addicted to that shit.”

 

Peter gasps, scrambling to sit upright. “It was you! You took the coffee!”

 

“How could you?” Tony asks. “I have never been so betrayed in all my life. FRIDAY! Call Steve. Tell him the team’s breaking up again, and it’s me versus Rhodey.”

 

_“I’m going to file that under ‘sarcasm’, Boss, and not carry out the order.”_

 

“Are we allowed to joke about that now?” Peter says.

 

“Just me.”

 

“Understandable.”

 

Rhodey sighs. “ _Yes_ , I took your coffee, Tony. Look at you without it.”

 

“I can’t believe you staged a fucking intervention over coffee. You made me go cold turkey! Come on, you’ve seen me do a lot worse.”

 

“You know, the first time I drank coffee after I got bitten, I thought I was having a heart attack,” Peter says, apropos of nothing. “My spidey senses were going haywire and I thought everyone was out to get me. Found out later that my spidey sense is basically super anxiety and caffeine is bad for that. Apparently.”

 

Tony shoots him a withering glare. “You were fourteen. What were you doing drinking coffee _before_ you got bitten?”

 

“That’s what you took from that?”

 

“And you really think it’s a good idea to let him loose with your coffee machine?” Rhodey stands up, shaking his head.

 

“Rhodey…” Tony whines.

 

“If you’re good, maybe it’ll be back in your kitchen tomorrow morning.”

 

“What do you mean by ‘good’?”

 

“I mean not staying up until ass o’clock in the morning, and making sure the kid stops copying you and your terrible habits. Morgan sleeps through most nights now; you have no excuse to be awake.”

 

“Ugh. Fine.”

 

* * *

 

“What…?” Peter covers another huge yawn with his hand. “What time is it?”

 

“Eight at night.”

 

“I’m so tired…”

 

“Mmm.” Mr Stark pulls him into his side. “Sleepy Spider-kid detected.”

 

“Yeah, ‘cause I just told you.” Peter closes his eyes. “I think…Colonel Rhodes is right. Maybe we should cut down on our coffee intake.”

 

“Is that ‘we’ or ‘me’?”

 

“No, both of us. You heard Mr Rhodey; it’s bad for us.”

 

“But I’m gonna need some coffee, Underoos.”

 

“Oh, yeah, obviously. Just not as much, right?”

 

“Mm. Guess so.” Mr Stark’s fingers find their way to Peter’s scalp, the way they always do. “Good thing you’re on break, because I completely forgot it’s Monday tomorrow.” He starts to gently scratch the top of Peter’s head.

 

Peter sighs at the movement; he knows it’s as relaxing for Mr Stark as it is for him. “Might actually…” He yawns again. “Actually get a good night’s sleep, though. No bad dreams.”

 

“Mm, does sound good.” Mr Stark rests his head back, still moving his fingers in a circular motion through Peter’s hair. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you conspired with Rhodey to get rid of my coffee.”

 

“I would never.” Peter curls his feet up.

 

“Uh-huh. FRIDAY, pause…whatever we’re on now.”

 

With the room quiet, Peter lays his head on Mr Stark’s shoulder and conks out.

 

* * *

 

Tony wakes up the next morning with Peter still nodded off beside him, feeling well-rested and content. Peter looks like he’s sleeping better than he has since the Avengers brought him back to life.

 

FRIDAY informs him that Rhodey has saved several images from the security footage overnight and also put the coffee back in the kitchen cupboard.

 

Tony’s going to kill him.

 

Peter sighs in his sleep, nestling a little closer to Tony and effectively pinning him to the couch.

 

Okay. The killing can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch your caffeine consumption, guys! - me, a hypocritical ravenclaw


	24. bloodlust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This guy is crazy. Peter can see the feverish glint in his eyes, some deranged kind of bloodlust, and for the first time, he’s truly frightened.
> 
>  
> 
> But the woman is safe, and Peter might not be in the suit, but he’s still Spider-Man. He’s still doing his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> four days left? ummm??
> 
> good news! (or bad news) i am going to be very busy for the next few days so updates might not quite be daily anymore, but that just means i get to play with this wonderful story a little longer. (and maybe i just don't want it to end).
> 
> hope you all enjoyed the fluffy interlude haha: warnings for mentions of murder, serial killers, kidnapping and slight human experimentation.

Tony frowns as he scrolls through the news on his StarkPhone.

 

One headline jumps out. Fourth Body Found In Queens.

 

“FRIDAY, what’s this about bodies? Don’t just give me the news: what do the police know?”

 

_“Boss, yesterday the NYPD found the body of a young woman in Forest Hills. Her injuries and suspected cause of death are similar to two other women and one man of around the same age who have been found dead in the same area over the past month.”_

 

Peter lives in Forest Hills.

 

“How old are the victims?”

 

_“All four have been between twenty and twenty-five years old.”_

 

Still too close for comfort.

 

_“In light of discovering the latest victim, the NYPD are planning to call a press conference later today and announce they suspect a serial killer is at work.”_

 

Tony swallows. “What…what injuries?”

 

_“Signs of torture before death. Forensic reports returned on the first two bodies showed what seemed to be evidence of a clinical procedure.”_

 

“What the fuck?”

 

_“I believe the Chief of Police said something similar.”_

 

“Okay, thanks, girl. Get out of their secure servers before we get arrested.”

 

* * *

 

Peter’s kind of aware that this is a thing, but he doesn’t realise how seriously everyone is taking it until Mr Stark brings it up in the lab one day.

 

“Pete, you’re being safe, right?”

 

He looks up and frowns. “I have goggles on…”

 

Mr Stark grins, but his eyes are tight. “No, I’m talking about those murders.”

 

“It’s New York, Mr Stark.” Peter sticks his tongue out in concentration and starts to pour his web fluid into cartridges. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

 

“I mean the murders happening in Queens, numbnuts. Where you live?”

 

“Oh, those? It’s just some guy, right?”

 

“I’ve seen the police files-“

 

“Why have you seen the files?”

 

“That’s not important right now-“

 

“ _How_ have you seen the files?”

 

“I have ways of getting what I want.”

 

Peter snorts. “I know you probably just asked FRIDAY to get them, but that really sounded like you’re in the mob or something.”

 

“The mob wishes they had me.”

 

There’s a solid second of silence where Peter holds it together before he explodes into laughter.

 

“The point I’m trying to make – no, listen,” Mr Stark says over his giggles, “I’m being serious here, Underoos. Everything the police have found points to some really messed-up crap. I’m talking H. H. Holmes level of crazy.”

 

“Okay, that is bad.” Peter’s already been thinking about this; Queens is his turf, and he has to find this guy. If that means staying out later on patrol, then-

 

“I just need to know you’re being careful. I need to know Spider-Man is being careful, and I need to know Peter Parker is being careful.”

 

Peter hesitates; of course Mr Stark knows him well enough to guess what he wanted to do.

 

“Seriously,” Mr Stark says, “this isn’t a crazy alien and his army or a god throwing a teenage tantrum, okay? This isn’t our usual shit. This is a crazy dude, and I mean crazy. Let the police handle it.”

 

“They’re not handling it.”

 

“I’m sorry, that sounded suspiciously like you _weren’t_ going to leave it to the police.”

 

Peter sighs. “It’s my job to look out for people. I can’t just let them-“

 

“I need to know you’re being careful, or I’m going to lose it.”

 

“Okay, fine. I’ll be careful.”

 

“And wear your watch at all times.”

 

Peter shakes his left wrist, letting the watch slide down his arm.

 

“And you’re not going to chase down the crazy Queens Killer. Say it with me: I will not go looking for a crazy serial killer.”

 

Peter learned long ago to recognise the notes of concern under Mr Stark’s joking tone. “I won’t, I promise.”

 

“Good.” Mr Stark ruffles his hair and turns back to his housing unit.

 

* * *

 

The media dubs the murderer the Queens Killer, because they’re original like that.

 

A week later, they find another body, two blocks away from Peter and May’s apartment. Mr Stark calls five minutes before it’s even on the news.

 

_“…and May, you have people to walk home from work with? I can assign you a driver or one of my security team if you want-“_

 

Peter shakes his head at the phone, glad it’s only on speaker instead of a video call.

 

“We’re fine, Tony.” May looks like she’s barely holding back laughter.

 

_“Are you sure?”_

 

“I have next Friday off. How about we both come to the Compound for the weekend?”

 

 _“Of course, you’re always welcome, if you need a break.”_ Trust Mr Stark to make it sound like he’s doing them a favour instead of the other way around. Peter can hear the barely-hidden relief in his voice. _“And Pete?”_

 

“I’m being careful, Mr Stark.”

 

_“And?”_

 

“I’m wearing my watch.” Peter barely manages to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

 

_“Good.”_

 

May finally gets him to hang up and gives the phone a fond smile. “He’s really freaking out, huh?”

 

“I think he’s out of his depth on this one,” Peter says slowly. “Aliens and gods and superhumans – he doesn’t like it, but it’s what he’s used to. This is just…a person.”

 

“Well.” May takes his hand and squeezes it. “Hopefully, the police will find them soon, and everything will be back to normal.”

 

* * *

 

Peter wants desperately to put his earbuds in and block out the noise of the busy New York evening, but the whole of Queens feels on edge right now and cutting himself off just heightens the cold prickling on the back of his neck.

 

So he picks up the grocery bags easily and starts to head home.

 

A faint scream reaches his ears, too quiet for anyone to hear but him.

 

Okay. Mr Stark told him to be careful, but he’s not going to stand back and ignore someone in trouble, either.

 

“Hello?” He edges into the alleyway. “Is everything okay?”

 

He spins around at the sound of a scuffle. A dark figure is leaning over a young woman, pinning her against a Dumpster.

 

Peter lifts the heaviest bag – cartons of milk and orange juice – and flings it at the figure’s head.

 

The woman screams in shock but manages to free herself as the figure slumps.

 

“It’s okay! I got him, it’s okay.”

 

The woman looks terrified. She’s only a few years older than him; it could’ve been one of his friends, Ned or MJ or Wanda standing in front of him.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

She nods.

 

“Okay, go. Call the police on this dude.”

 

She scrambles out of the alley without a word, fumbling for her phone.

 

Peter relaxes and moves to retrieve the cartons. That’s his second mistake.

 

Something hits him in the back of the head, hard, and he realises his first mistake was completely forgetting about the guy he’d just knocked out with a bag of groceries.

 

“You want to interfere?” the guy yells, and it’s definitely a dude. Peter sprawls on the floor, gasping in pain. “I think you just volunteered in her place.”

 

Peter barely has time to roll over before the guy leaps on top of him, wrapping gloved hands around his throat.

 

He can’t breathe, he’s gasping for air, but he can’t fight back with his full strength, not as Peter.

 

“You’re younger than I usually like, but it could be interesting.”

 

This guy is crazy. Peter can see the feverish glint in his eyes, some deranged kind of bloodlust, and for the first time, he’s truly frightened.

 

But the woman is safe, and Peter might not be in the suit, but he’s still Spider-Man. He’s still doing his job.

 

He holds onto that as the man throws his fist into the side of Peter’s head and he sinks into darkness.

 

* * *

 

Tony generally enjoys calls from May Parker. Not this one.

 

She’s panicking, and then he starts to panic, and it takes almost five minutes for it to sink in that Peter’s missing.

 

_“-he went out nearly three hours ago and he hasn’t come back, Tony. He wouldn’t do that.”_

 

“I know, I know.” Tony had thought for a moment that Peter would do exactly that; he has before, after all. But no. He’d promised. “FRIDAY, try and get a signal on his watch.”

 

_“Searching.”_

 

“It’s gonna be fine, May, I promise. I’ll find him.”

 

_“Boss, I have a 911 call from two hours ago where a woman claims she was saved from an attempted kidnapping by a teenage boy. Dispatches report that there were signs of a struggle in the alley she directed them to, but neither her attacker nor the teenager were there.”_

 

“That’s gotta be it. If I head there, it might be close enough for you to get a better signal from his watch.”

 

_“Hopefully.”_

 

“I’ll find him,” Tony tells May again, tapping his housing unit and taking off before the suit finishes forming.

 

* * *

 

When Peter wakes up, he can’t move.

 

He’s restrained, tied down with thick leather straps, the kind he could easily break if he was fully awake, but he’s dazed and groggy. He wonders if he’s concussed, but he lifts his left hand and sees the IV resting there innocently.

 

He’s going to throw up.

 

“Not to worry, not to worry. Just a little muscle relaxant.” The guy from the alley moves into his line of sight, dressed in a long white coat.

 

Peter knows he should stop being surprised when stuff like this happens, seeing as he’s a superhero, but this guy is a literal comic-book mad scientist.

 

“Now, what to do with you, hm?”

 

“What – why?” That’s about all Peter’s capable of saying for the moment.

 

“I’m a scientist, my boy. I’m studying death.”

 

“You…kill people?”

 

“Oh, I experiment on them first.”

 

Yep. This guy is absolutely, batshit, loop-the-loop _crazy_. And Peter’s alone with him.

 

“Now, this might pinch a bit-“ And then he’s slicing a scalpel down Peter’s arm, smiling when blood bubbles up and spills out.

 

Peter just watches helplessly as the cut starts to heal over. The man’s eyes bug.

 

“Oh.” He stares at the drying trickle of blood, now without a source. “You’re not human, are you?”

 

“I-“

 

“This will be interesting. You might last longer than the others before you die.”

 

Peter’s breathing speeds up.

 

“When they die…that’s the best part. Just seeing what finally finishes them off.”

 

Oh, he’s in so much trouble.

 

* * *

 

Tony lands in the alley, startling the four police officers already there, and takes in the scene. No web fluid anywhere, but it might have just dissolved.

 

“Hit me,” he orders the nearest officer. She looks at her partner in disbelief. “Yes, I’ve cleared it with your Captain. What happened here?”

 

“A woman said she was saved by a teenager who threw a bag of groceries at some creep’s head.” Another officer nods at a discarded bag with milk and orange juice inside. “No sign of-“

 

“Of the teenager or the creep.” Tony can’t help his smirk at Peter’s use of unconventional weapons.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Dammit,” Tony mutters. “FRIDAY?”

 

_“I have a lock on Peter’s watch.”_

 

“Good girl. All right!” He claps his hands. “It’s very possible that I’m about to catch your serial killer. If not, there’s probably at least a kidnapping case. Follow me.”

 

They do, their expressions ranging from exasperated to awestruck. Peter’s tracker is only three blocks away and stationary, and he hopes with everything he has that it hasn’t just been taken off and discarded.

 

Tony’s going to find his kid, and then he’s going to hug him, and then he’s going to yell and ground him for the rest of his life.

 

He’d told Peter to leave it alone. This was too scary, too fucked up, for even Tony to want to touch it with a ten-foot pole. The kid just couldn’t help himself, could he?

 

Tony’s getting him back. He’s making sure his kid makes it to eighteen; he’s waited long enough.

 

“Two more squad cars are en route,” an officer tells Tony.

 

“Okay. It’s not far; they can catch up.”

 

“We’re waiting for backup, Mr Stark. Thirty seconds.”

 

They’re the longest thirty seconds of Tony’s life.

 

The officers greet their backup quickly and break down the situation.

 

“And Iron Man is here – why?”

 

“This guy is fucking in my business,” Tony says shortly. He’s not sure if it’s Peter or Spider-Man they’ll find – because they will find him – and he doesn’t want to give NYPD the chance to connect any dots. “I can cover more ground than ten of your squad cars in a hour, but that’s not the point right now. I’m tracing a signal. Let’s go.”

 

The signal leads to an abandoned-looking building on the corner of an empty street, and Tony’s at his wit’s end by the time he gets there.

 

“In here.”

 

“How can you tell?”

 

“Will you stop fucking arguing with me?” Tony’s about to turn and give the officer a real piece of his mind, but he’s cut off by an agonised scream coming from inside the building.

 

“Pete!”

 

He blasts down the doors without waiting for the all-clear and storms inside. His heart nearly stops.

 

A man in a doctor’s coat is standing over a metal bench, something metallic glinting in his fist. Tony fires his repulsors without a second thought, because on the bench…

 

He doesn’t want to look and accept that it’s Peter, but he has to.

 

Peter, gasping in pain, a deep gash scored across his collarbone.

 

“You piece of _shit_!” Tony roars, rounding on the creepy scientist. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry: sheer rage, nothing else to temper it. He could strangle the man right now and not think twice about it.

 

He’s firing up his blasters again, his head full of nothing but the desire to kill, when Peter’s voice calls his name.

 

Everything melts away in a heartbeat: the anger, his murderous rage. His kid needs him.

 

He rips open the restraints and gently pulls the IV out of the back of Peter’s hand. “I’m here, I’m here. Can you sit up? _Peter_.” His voice breaks, and he pulls Peter into his arms and lifts him off the metal table. “I’m here, I’ve got you, kid.”

 

“Mr Stark,” Peter mumbles into his chest.

 

Tony sits down heavily, cradling the back of Peter’s head, and just holds him.

 

* * *

 

The police have come and gone, dragging the Queens Killer with them, and Peter is still trembling in Mr Stark’s arms.

 

“I told you…” Mr Stark exhales shakily, pulling Peter tighter against his chest. “I told you to leave this alone.”

 

Peter closes his eyes.

 

“You could’ve died, you – God!”

 

“I didn’t mean to.” Peter knows he sounds about five years old, but it’s all he can get out. “I’m sorry, I just – I wasn’t trying to, I-“

 

“Please don’t ever scare me like that again.”

 

The raw terror in Mr Stark’s voice makes Peter want to cry.

 

“I just – I didn’t know it was him, I had to help that woman-“

 

“I know.”

 

“Didn’t even get May’s shopping.”

 

“Honestly, that’s the least of her worries right now.”

 

“Did she freak, too?”

 

“Of course she did.” Mr Stark takes a ragged breath. “We thought you’d be showing up dead five days from now.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter says again.

 

“I’m making a unilateral decision and moving your planned weekend at the Compound to right now.”

 

Peter doesn’t have the energy to argue, not that he wants to. Everything left in him is going towards healing the deep wound on his shoulder.

 

Mr Stark gets to his feet, helping Peter up. “I mean it, Pete. If you – we thought – God, don’t put yourself in harm’s way without your suit like this, _please_.”

 

“I wore my watch, though.”

 

“Yeah, you little shit.” Mr Stark laughs; it only sounds a tiny bit hysterical. “You had your watch, thank God, or I might not have found you.”

 

“I’m okay,” Peter says, because he thinks Mr Stark needs to hear it more than he does.

 

Mr Stark picks Peter up like he’s a child, like he weighs nothing, which is probably true when he’s in the suit. “Yeah. Gotta make sure Morgan has her brother.”

 

“Mm.” Peter’s still groggy, and the motion as Mr Stark starts walking begins to rock him to sleep. He’s safe, he can relax.

 

“And I got to make sure I’ve got my kid.”

 

“You got me.”

 

“I got you,” Mr Stark agrees, and holds him a little closer.


	25. battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst part of the battle isn’t the fighting; it’s the aftermath, the terrible stillness of silence and death.
> 
>  
> 
> Tony remembers snapping at Steve, years ago, with all the vehemence he could muster, “We are not soldiers!”
> 
>  
> 
> He never wanted this. He never wanted this for Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peter and wanda friendship? tony and clint being dads? yes please
> 
> okay i know this is late, and i'm sorry! i couldn't do it yesterday, but i wanted to get this up because i won't be able to post tonight either. this means the prompts are going to carry over into march, if you guys don't mind waiting.

This place is a fucking war zone.

 

Tony’s not exactly sure what SHIELD’s brilliant plan was, but he hopes it wasn’t this.

 

Still, you never know with SHIELD.

 

“Okay, Tony!” Steve yells. “Take Peter and go left!”

 

“Aye-aye, Cap’n!”

 

Peter snorts as Steve continues barking orders, sounding like the soldier he is. “All hail Théodon King!”

 

Steve pauses. “I don’t understand that reference.”

 

“No, me neither,” Tony says.

 

He can’t see Peter’s face underneath the mask, but he’s sure it’s a picture. “How have you _still_ not seen Lord of the Rings? Or The Hobbit?”

 

“Is that what that’s from?” Steve mutters.

 

“Because, Peter, that’s, like, twenty hours of cinematography. Do you know who has that kind of time, Peter? Not me!”

 

“But-“

 

Steve keeps talking over their bickering. “Okay, focus! We need to get to their main bunker and take out the weapon before we try and move on the base-“

 

“Get down!” Peter yells, and the team drops to the ground just as a blast from the huge cannon in the bunker sails over their heads.

 

“Holy shit,” Natasha breathes.

 

“Spidey senses.” Peter’s breathing is shaky.

 

“So, take out the bunker.” Tony swallows. “Yep. I can see why.”

 

“If you’re in the air, watch yourself,” Steve warns.

 

“Right, kid.” Tony lets Peter hop onto his back. “We’re going right, yeah?”

 

He can practically hear Peter rolling his eyes. “Left, Mr Stark.”

 

“Knew that. Just testing you.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Tony takes off.

 

Being in the air gives him some kind of advantage, at least at first. He can see Sam and Rhodey trying to break through the left side and everyone on the ground running straight down the middle, but whoever’s in charge of this Generic Evil Villain Lair (capitalised, that’s how fed up he is) has decided to bunker down and force the Avengers into a full-on siege rather than doing something easier, like surrendering.

 

“Down!” Peter yells in his ear and Tony dives, trusting the kid’s instincts more than his. A bright flash lights the air above their heads.

 

They definitely need to deal with that bunker, and soon.

 

“I’m going to try and circle around,” he tells Peter. “We’ll head in the back way.”

 

“Got it.”

 

He lands, taking out a couple of guards with his repulsors, and takes in the bunker. “This is gonna be more of a challenge than the actual base.”

 

Peter slides off his back and nods.

 

“Ready, Underoos?”

 

“Always.”

 

It goes well for about thirty seconds.

 

And then Peter strays just a bit too far away from him and gets caught fighting two guys at once and Tony lets himself get distracted.

 

He’s so busy trying to get to Peter that he forgets to watch his own back. Two men appear in front of him, and FRIDAY flashes up in his HUD to tell him three more are behind him.

 

He’s surrounded, but he can fight his way out.

 

“Mr Stark-“

 

“Go! Now!” Peter hesitates and Tony rounds on him. “I mean it!”

 

Peter gives a wordless yell of frustration, but aims his webshooters and swings away. Tony lets himself relax a fraction.

 

Peter can hold his own when he’s not worried about Tony. He can slip past people better, too, and there shouldn’t be as many guards in his direction. He’ll be fine.

 

“Well, gentlemen.” He flashes a sharp smile behind his mask. “Seems like you’ve got me all to yourselves.”

 

* * *

 

Peter wants to turn around and run back to Mr Stark the second he leaves, but he runs into two more guys that nearly catch with their mini laser guns before he webs them to the ground.

 

He looks up, breathing hard, and realises he’s closer to the bunker than he thought.

 

“Okay,” he mumbles to himself, “so I can-“

 

“Duck!”

 

He drops, raising his head just in time to see a pulse of red light slam a man against the wall in front of him.

 

“Where’s your spidey senses now?” Wanda laughs.

 

“Must’ve known you were there.” Peter jumps to his feet with a grin.

 

“Are we first here?”

 

“Yeah. I got split up from Mr Stark.”

 

“Okay.” Red light swirls around Peter and lifts him into the air.

 

“Hey-!”

 

“I’m sorry, how were you planning on getting in?”

 

“I’m _literally_ Spider-Man.”

 

They land on an outside walkway and Peter kicks the reinforced door in. Heads snap around to stare at them.

 

“Hey, guys!” Peter webs away a gun just before it fires at him. “Don’t think they’re friendly.”

 

“Shame,” Wanda says, and jumps forward. Peter follows.

 

The fighting is faster and more intense than before; they’re inside, fighting in close quarters, and the men come at them quickly. Every so often, they can hear the dull boom of the cannon above their heads

 

“I can bring it down,” Wanda calls, “but not until we’re out.”

 

Peter nods and webs another man up. “Okay! But-!”

 

“Just the gun,” she promises with a smile.

 

“Thank you!” Get you friends that understand and accept your hatred of killing people.

 

A pulse of red light takes out a gunman just before Peter can web him up.

 

“That was mine!”

 

“Move faster!” Wanda calls.

 

A sudden flash of fear slams into Peter’s gut like a train, screaming at him that something’s about to happen. He spins, frantic, but Wanda’s fine, holding her own, so what-?

 

The gun is spinning in its huge turret, taking aim at something up in the sky. As Peter stares, the target glints with red and gold.

 

“Wanda!” he screams. “Bring it down, bring it down right now!”

 

“Peter-“

 

“Do it now!”

 

Wanda doesn’t question him, just throws her arms up, red light spilling out around her, and brings the whole bunker crashing down on their heads.

 

* * *

 

 _“Bunker’s down!”_ Natasha yells, and Tony glances down. The gun turret is now a pile of rubble, the dust still settling around it. _“And Bruce is already in the base.”_

 

“Did Bruce take it out?”

 

_“Must’ve done.”_

 

Everyone else is strangely quiet, but this fight is serious. Joking around is out of the question.

 

 _“Okay, Natasha and I pretty much have this secured,”_ Steve calls. _“Tony, Sam, Rhodey, I want you picking off any stragglers that try to run.”_

 

“You got it.” Tony sets his repulsors to stun and goes to town. He probably shouldn’t be enjoying this, but he’s tired and he’s still pissed that Fury didn’t tell them exactly what kind of mission this was going to be and it’s his turn to cause a little trouble.

 

 _“Okay, man,”_ Rhodey says, _“I think you got them all.”_

 

“Fucking finally.” Tony lands next to Steve. “Someone get cleanup here. SHIELD can clear up their mess. I want to go home.”

 

“We’ll do a headcount back on the jet,” Steve says, and even he sounds exhausted, run ragged and raw.

 

Tony starts doing his own headcount anyway.

 

He doesn’t need to look to know who’s missing. There’s no random chatter, no laughter, and some protective instinct is tickling the base of his skull.

 

“Where’s Peter?”

 

Clint moves to stand beside him, every line of his body echoing the tension creeping into Tony’s. “Where’s Wanda?”

 

“Where are the kids?” Tony yells. The whole team stops picking their way across the battlefield and closes in. “Peter?”

 

“Wanda?” Clint roars.

 

Their eyes meet for a second, Tony’s mounting terror reflected back at him.

 

“Split up!” Steve calls. “Split up and look for them.” If he wasn’t tired before, he seems it now; Tony knows he’s been here before, trawling his way across a field of bodies and hoping he doesn’t recognise one of them.

 

Clint and Tony drift together, unwilling to face it alone. They’re the same; their not-kids-but-really-their-kids have brought them closer than Tony thought he’d ever get with Clint after the Accords and the Raft. The pain of losing them to Thanos and the struggle to get them back – no one else quite gets it: that feeling of ‘no, they’re not mine, but they’re my responsibility, and I let them down’.

 

Now Tony’s let Peter down again.

 

The worst part of the battle isn’t the fighting; it’s the aftermath, the terrible stillness of silence and death.

 

Tony remembers snapping at Steve, years ago, with all the vehemence he could muster, “We are not soldiers!”

 

He never wanted this. He never wanted this for _Peter_.

 

He should’ve decked Fury after that shitshow with Peter and Mysterio in Europe, not let him press the team into this mission. Tony was supposed to be done.

 

“I thought Peter was with you,” Clint says quietly.

 

“He was.” Tony chokes at the thought that him trying to keep the kid safe might be the reason he loses him. “I made us split up, thought I was making him take the safer route. What about Wanda? When did you last see her?”

 

Clint manages a half-smile. “Normally she’s pretty hard to miss, but…I actually don’t know. Shit. How did I lose a girl who explodes with red every five seconds?”

 

Tony doesn’t answer.

 

“It’s a wide-open field,” Clint says slowly, “so the only reason we wouldn’t have been able to see her is if-“

 

“She went inside,” Tony finishes. “Shit. _Shit_ , she was in the bunker! She brought it down.”

 

“Give me a lift,” Clint says.

 

Tony does without hesitation.

 

They shoot across the field to the pile of rubble, landing so hard that Tony almost stumbles. The bunker is completely flattened, levelled in a way that could only have been done from the inside. Definitely Wanda.

 

Sam and Rhodey land beside them, both muttering, “Oh, shit,” as they take in the wreckage.

 

“Wanda?” Clint yells. “Wanda!”

 

“Here!” Rhodey calls and bends down to lift up a large piece of rubble. “Someone get in there and pull her out.”

 

Tony joins him, grabbing hold of an arm, then another one. The figure is so coated in white dust she’s almost unrecognisable, but her long hair and leather coat give her away. “Come on,” he grunts, “come on.”

 

Finally, he drags her out and Rhodey lets the rubble drop again.

 

“Thanks, man.” He lowers his voice. “Any sign of Peter?”

 

Tony shakes his head and lets Clint pull Wanda into his arms.

 

Rhodey claps him on the shoulder and squeezes. “We’ll find him.”

 

Wanda wakes up, her eyes flying open, and inhales sharply. Then she starts to choke.

 

She hacks and coughs up lungfuls of dust, but between her dry, rasping breaths, she manages one word. “Peter…”

 

Tony’s blood turns to ice. “What? Is he here? Where is he?”

 

Wanda coughs harshly. “Sorry, we were – I was going to wait until we were out – just take out the gun-“

 

“So what the hell happened?”

 

“It was aiming for you,” she whispers. “Peter shouted for me to bring it down.”

 

Tony’s going to kill him and then drag his stupid, self-sacrificing ass back to life. “Peter’s here somewhere!” he calls to the team. “FRI, see if you can get a read through all this debris.”

 

_“I’ll do my best.”_

 

“Good girl.”

 

They search for a few minutes while Clint helps Wanda get her breathing under control. Each time they turn up nothing, Tony’s heart drops a little more.

 

 _“Boss,”_ FRIDAY says, _“six feet in front of you.”_

 

“Shit.” Tony stumbles to the spot she’s highlighting in his display and scrabbles at the rubble. “Pete? Peter!” He uncovers a limp hand, the metallic suit glinting through the dust. “Okay, _shit_.”

 

Steve joins him, scooping bits of the bunker aside until Tony can lift up Peter’s body up.

 

He’s covered in white dust like Wanda; it’s completely coating his suit. He’s breathing, though, and that’s all Tony cares about.

 

He shifts when Tony settles him into his arms, folding his mask back and blinking innocently up at him.

 

Tony doesn’t know whether to hug him or throttle him.

 

“What happened…?”

 

“Wanda collapsed a bunker on your head. Ring any bells?”

 

“Oh…” Peter grins, coughs and winces. “Ow.”

 

_“‘Ow’ is right, Boss. Karen is reporting three cracked ribs and a fractured collarbone.”_

 

“You idiot,” Tony breathes. “I’m going to kill you.”

 

“Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of pulling me out of a collapsed building?”

 

“Dead, Parker. You are _dead_.” But Tony can’t keep his angry front up for longer than a few seconds. He leans forward and presses his forehead against Peter’s. _Alive. He’s alive._

 

“‘M not sorry,” Peter mutters stubbornly. “It was going to shoot you.” His arms creep around Tony’s neck, though: his own way of seeking comfort and forgiveness. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“You never do.” Tony exhales and rests his face in Peter’s hair for a second. “Can you walk?”

 

“Can I? Probably. Do I want to? Mm.”

 

Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I love you, kid.”

 

Steve gives him a brief look of surprise but it melts into a smile. Clint still has one arm slung around Wanda’s shoulders, half-supportive, half-protective.

 

“We got everyone this time?” Natasha calls, hovering beside Wanda.

 

“We better,” Sam says.

 

“I think we’re good to go.” Steve starts walking back towards the jet.

 

Tony follows, taking in the battlefield properly for the first time. It’s a miracle they all got through it alive.

 

Fury is dead the next time he sees him.

 

“I’m warning you,” Tony tells Peter, “if you keep doing stupid shit like this, I’m going to kill you, if the stress doesn’t end me first.”

 

“He’s an Avenger,” Sam says. “Doing stupid shit is in the job description.”

 

“No, Wilson!”

 

Peter laughs, and Tony forgives Sam just for getting him to smile.

 

While he’s in a forgiving mood, he decides to forgive Peter as well. “I’m serious. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

 

“Welcome to raising a teenager,” Clint says. “I mean, that’s bad enough, but when they’ve got powers? Nightmare.”

 

“Okay!” Sam calls. “Let’s get the dads back to the jet before their backs give out.”

 

“Wilson, you are so lucky my hands are full right now!”

 

Everyone laughs again, and Tony feels a little lighter.


	26. shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hair stands up on Peter’s arms and he glances around. Four men are hovering by the doors, and three more are prowling around the outside of the room.
> 
>  
> 
> He tugs on Mr Stark’s sleeve. “Something’s going to happen.”
> 
>  
> 
> Mr Stark looks up sharply, his fingers closing around Peter’s wrist as he takes in the room. “You stay close to me, is that clear? Don’t try anything. They’ll have guns-“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS! firstly, i am so sorry for making you wait. i have been the worst kind of ill for the better part of a week now, and i couldn't look at any kind of screen for longer than a minute without hurting my eyes or wanting to throw up. it was Frustrating, because i had the last three days pretty much written up but i just couldn't post them.
> 
> secondly, thank you for your patience with this, and i promise the last two days are just about done so you won't have to wait as long. here's a longer chapter to make up for it?? i hope???
> 
> warnings for armed robbery, gunshot wounds, mention of injections and my sleep-deprived, sick self being disgustingly soppy.

The first thing Peter hears when he gets to the Compound is Morgan crying and Mr Stark humming something.

 

“What’s up?” he says as he walks into the sitting room.

 

“Take her!” Mr Stark says instantly. Pepper, sitting on the couch, bursts out laughing.

 

“Aw, what’s wrong?” Peter drops his backpack and settles Morgan into his arms. “What’s up, baby?”

 

Morgan stops crying and starts playing with his shirt collar instead.

 

“Why do I try?” Mr Stark says, trying for exasperated but failing to hide his grin. “You’re obviously the favourite.”

 

“‘Course I am. What are they doing to you, Morgan?”

 

“She had to have a shot today,” Pepper says.

 

“Oh, no.” Peter makes a sad face, sticking his lower lip. “It’s okay, I don’t like needles either.”

 

“So Helen’s on the shit list right now,” Mr Stark says, “and so am I, because I had to hold her.”

 

“Language, Tony,” Pepper says.

 

“She’s not even one, Pep, I don’t think-“

 

“Children start absorbing language even when they’re in the womb,” Peter says. Pepper and Mr Stark both stare at him. “What? Part of MJ’s major was child language acquisition and development. I helped her revise for finals.”

 

“There.” Pepper gives Mr Stark a smug glance. “No swearing.”

 

“It’s okay,” Peter coos to Morgan, “I know it sucks, but it’s better in the long run.”

 

Morgan blows a spit bubble.

 

“I promise, baby. Better than getting yourself and other people sick.”

 

“Right.” Mr Stark slaps his hands on his thighs and stands. “Are we heading out, Pete?”

 

Peter laughs. “That was the most dad-like thing you’ve ever done.”

 

“Really?” Mr Stark says. “I can pull your reckless ass out of trouble all day long, but I stand up funny and that’s when you decide I’m a dad?”

 

“Yup.” Peter hands Morgan back to Pepper.

 

“Where are you two going?”

 

“College shopping,” Mr Stark says, and the word _college_ makes Peter’s stomach do a nosedive, “because he won’t let me buy him a house-“

 

“You can’t just buy me a house in Cambridge-“

 

“-or be ‘too extravagant’ for his birthday.” Mr Stark rolls his eyes. “But he will let me buy all the shit he needs for his dorm and his classes-“

 

“Language!”

 

“-so that’s what I’m going to do.”

 

“He’s unstoppable,” Pepper warns Peter.

 

“No, I just have more money than I know what to do with and I want to spend it on the people I love.”

 

Peter sighs. “You’re already paying my tuition, Mr Stark.” The only reason he’d agreed was to take pressure off May. “I just – you don’t have to do everything.”

 

“I know, kid, but I’m going to anyway, because I want to.”

 

“Tony?” Pepper says as they’re on the way out of the room. “No giant rabbits.”

 

“One time-!” Mr Stark yells, and Peter pushes him the rest of the way out.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Mr Stark says, when they’re in his least obnoxious car and pulling out of the garage, “college, huh?”

 

“Weird,” Peter says.

 

His graduation from high school had been…odd, made slightly awkward by the fact that he and half of his year group were graduating at the same time as kids who had been in middle school when the Snap happened. May had still made a big deal out of it and so, almost to the point of humiliation, had Mr Stark.

 

“If there’s anything you think you need, get it. If there’s anything you want, tell me and I’ll get it. If you miss anything, I can get it sent up to you-“

 

“Okay.”

 

“-and even if you’re not sure, we’ll get it anyway. Can’t be too careful, right? And-“

 

“Mr Stark.”

 

“Mm-hm?”

 

“I think you’re freaking out more than I am.”

 

Mr Stark flashes him a grin, but there’s barely-concealed panic dancing behind his eyes. “Freaking out? No. Nuh-uh.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Come on, what are we? Five? No, you’re nearly eighteen and you’re leaving for college in a couple of months. Not every day you send your kid to college, is it? As it stands, I’m going to do it exactly twice. I just – I want to get it right, okay?”

 

Definitely freaking out.

 

“You’re doing great,” Peter tells him. “Everything you’re doing is great, Mr Stark. I don’t think there’s anything else you could be doing. You’re being amazing.”

 

Mr Stark smiles again, but it’s gentler this time. “Okay, so we need to stop off at the bank first. Then stationary, kitchen stuff, bedsheets-“

 

“Have you planned this?”

 

“Kid, I have a whole itinerary.”

 

* * *

 

They find a spot about a block away from the bank and walk, thankful for the sun giving them both an excuse to pull sunglasses and caps over their heads. Even so, stepping into the air-conditioned lobby is an even more welcome relief.

 

“Won’t be a minute.” Mr Stark joins the queue.

 

“Why are we here?”

 

“Adulting.”

 

“Thanks, I hate it.”

 

“You’re nearly eighteen, Parker. Time to learn.”

 

The hair stands up on Peter’s arms and he glances around. Four men are hovering by the doors, and three more are prowling around the outside of the room.

 

He tugs on Mr Stark’s sleeve. “Something’s going to happen.”

 

Mr Stark looks up sharply, his fingers closing around Peter’s wrist as he takes in the room. “You stay close to me, is that clear? Don’t try anything. They’ll have guns-“

 

Before he even finishes the sentence, there’s a gunshot. Everyone in the bank screams, covering their heads and ducking. The men yank hoods and balaclavas over their heads, locking the doors and pulling out guns.

 

Mr Stark covers Peter’s head with his other hand and pushes him to the floor.

 

“Everyone down on the ground! Hands up!”

 

Peter does, catching Mr Stark’s eyes. He gets a barely-there head shake in response, and his fingers tighten around Peter’s wrist. His other hand taps his watch.

 

_“Stay behind me, Peter. Stay hidden, no matter what happens.”_

_“Uncle Ben-“_

_“Don’t do anything stupid.”_

 

The men drag employees out from behind their desks, shoving them to the ground and pointing their guns in warning.

 

“Hey!”

 

Mr Stark closes his eyes.

 

“It’s Tony fucking Stark!”

 

“Shit. I didn’t know we’d be fucking with Iron Man.”

 

“He doesn’t have a suit with him. Chill out.”

 

“Get up.”

 

Mr Stark squeezes Peter’s wrist again before he lets go and stands up slowly. “Gentlemen.”

 

“You stay right there and don’t try anything, or we’ll start shooting.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“He’s up to something,” Peter hears one of the other men mutter.

 

“Make sure he stays out of our way, then.”

 

Before Peter can even think about reacting, the tallest man raises his gun and fires a shot.

 

Mr Stark drops to the floor with a shout, his right hand flying up to cradle his chest.

 

Peter can only stare in horror.

 

_“Ben? Uncle Ben, it’s okay, the ambulance is coming-“_

_“Pete…”_

_“It’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be fine-“_

_There’s so much red, all over Ben’s shirt and Peter’s hands and his sweater._

 

“Anyone else feel like being a hero?” the guy who’d fired the shot yells.

 

Peter crawls over to Mr Stark.

 

_“Just hold on a little longer, please-“_

_“it’s okay, Pete, it’s okay…” Ben’s eyes start to slip closed. “Just remember…if you can do a good thing…if you can help someone…you do it…”_

_Peter just sobs._

_“You stop the bad things from happening, because…because if you don’t…they happen because of you…”_

 

Mr Stark sits up slowly, his teeth clenched against the pain. Blood is leaking through his fingers, clasped over the wound. He meets Peter’s eyes and frowns. “Hey, it’s okay, Pete, it’s okay.” He lifts his hand for a second. “Just caught me in the shoulder, I’m good.”

 

Peter all but tackles him; he can’t keep his sobs back any longer, but he doesn’t want everyone else in the bank to see how utterly terrified he was.

 

“Sh, sh.” Mr Stark just presses his face into Peter’s hair. “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

 

“This is sweet,” a deep voice says mockingly. “I didn’t realise Stark brought his intern.”

 

Peter knows his internship isn’t so secret anymore, especially since he got accepted into MIT, but he’s also pretty sure most interns don’t hug their boss. His senses, already shouting in alarm, ramp up another notch.

 

“Leave it,” another man says. “We’re nearly done emptying the vault.”

 

“Bet we’d get a good ransom for him.”

 

“Whatever, man. If you’re willing to deal with that, that’s your issue.”

 

Peter turns around to see the man who’d shot Mr Stark eyeing them with interest. He levels his gun at Peter, moving very slowly and deliberately. “You like your intern, Stark? How much do you want to pay me to stop me blowing his brains out?”

 

“However much you asked,” Mr Stark says instantly. “You don’t need to hurt him.”

 

“You hear that? This kid is fucking valuable.”

 

Peter tenses; they’re moving towards him like they want to pull him away, but that’s going to leave Mr Stark unprotected and injured, and he’s far more likely to do something stupid if he thinks Peter’s in danger.

 

“You wanna deal with a pissed off Iron Man? Your problem.”

 

They move away and Peter’s senses thankfully stop screaming as loud as they had been. Mr Stark relaxes minutely.

 

The other hostages are still huddled together on the floor, cringing every time one of the robbers walks too close.

 

“See? All done, and no one had to get hurt.” The leader glances at Mr Stark. “Too badly, anyway.”

 

“He needs a hospital,” the bank manager says, her voice shaking.

 

“Not until we’re out of here.”

 

“Pete,” Mr Stark whispers.

 

Peter leans back into him, hiding their conversation beneath a hug. “Hm?”

 

“The police are outside. Happy called them. As soon as they realise that, it’s going to get ugly.”

 

“Isn’t it already?” Peter breathes.

 

“I mean _really_ dangerous. Stay out of trouble, got it?”

 

“Why is Happy-?”

 

“Don’t worry about it, just-“

 

“The police are here!”

 

“Fuck!”

 

“Take some of them to make sure we’ll get out.”

 

Peter jumps when a hand grabs the back of his sweatshirt and pulls him up. Two of the other men are doing the same, slinging duffel bags across their backs and yanking hostages to their feet.

 

“Hey-!”

 

“Stay down, Stark!”

 

Mr Stark tries to push himself up, but his arm gives out. “Pete-“

 

“We’ll send them back when the police let us through.” The robber holding Peter jerks him away, breaking his eye contact with Mr Stark. “Come on, let’s go.”

 

Peter lets himself get dragged towards the door. He catches the eye of a young woman and manages a reassuring smile. The doors swing shut behind them, leaving only the seven men, still in their masks, and their three hostages in the lobby.

 

He only has a moment before they open the main doors and everyone on the street can see them.

 

 _Okay,_ Peter thinks, _deep breath, make sure they’re not paying attention, and three, two…one-_

 

He bends his knees and flips, landing on the shoulders of the man holding him and yanking his gun out of his hands. He slams the butt into the man’s head and leaps for the next two.

 

One goes down with a sharp kick to the face, and the others follow, but the last one, the one who’d shot Mr Stark, shoves his hostage to the ground and points his gun right at Peter’s head.

 

Peter ducks.

 

A shot cracks around the lobby.

 

* * *

 

Tony swears, if he lets anyone or anything take Peter away from him again, he’s going to lose his mind. Right now, he’s including college on the list of _anything._

 

He wants to run after the robbers, but his arm _really fucking hurts_ when he puts the slightest bit of weight on it, and by the time he gets the pain under control, they’ve disappeared through the doors and taken Peter with them.

 

“Shit,” he hisses, waving away the manager when she tries to bandage his arm. He can’t go after them, not without putting Peter in danger.

 

And then a shot echoes around the marble walls of the bank, and Tony completely forgets that Peter is still a hostage.

 

“Peter?” he roars, staggering to his feet. “Peter!”

 

Everyone else in the bank follows him as he charges towards the doors.

 

_Peter Peter Peter-_

 

The lobby is silent when he bursts in. Peter jumps and turns to face him. His face is ashen.

 

He throws the gun he’s holding to the ground. Peter hates guns.

 

Tony takes in the lobby in a single glance: six men out cold, and the seventh clutching a bloody hand to his thigh.

 

“I didn’t-“ Peter says brokenly. “I mean – he just – and I-“

 

“Hey, hey.” Tony pulls him into his arms; the kid is shaking, wound as tight as a coiled spring. “It’s okay, you didn’t kill him. You didn’t kill him.”

 

“I shot him.”

 

“You did what you had to, okay? It’s okay.”

 

The police storm in, their guns raised. Happy follows, shouting gruffly. He meets Tony’s eyes over the top of Peter’s head and motions towards the door.

 

Tony doesn’t hesitate, just scoops Peter into his arms like a little child and runs out onto the street.

 

* * *

 

Peter hasn’t moved for three hours.

 

He knows he hasn’t, because he’s been watching the digital clock in the corner of the television instead of what’s actually playing on the screen. May is sitting on one side of him, Mr Stark on the other, and Pepper, Rhodey and Happy are hovering around.

 

Mr Stark’s fingers scratch the top of his head, moving in soothing circles, while his other arm rests in a sling. He’s been doing that for two hours and fifty-five minutes.

 

“I shot him,” Peter mumbles.

 

Mr Stark pauses for a second before he carries on stroking his fingers through Peter’s hair.

 

“I – I fucking hate guns. I never – I didn’t want-“

 

“I know. It’s okay.”

 

“It’s not, I-“

 

“Pete, I know you. You would never have done that if you didn’t absolutely have to.”

 

“But-“

 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” May murmurs. “No one blames you.”

 

“You should. After Ben-“

 

“You didn’t mean to,” Mr Stark says firmly.

 

Didn’t he, though? He can barely remember. It’s a blur of panic and instincts:

 

“I can’t remember if I meant to or not.”

 

“I think you’d remember something like that.” Mr Stark shifts and grunts when he moves his injured shoulder. “Take it from someone who knows you, kid: you would never have done that if you could avoid it, okay? Trust me.”

 

“I do.” That’s not even up for debate.

 

“Well, then. I said it, so it’s true.”

 

“Of course, the great Tony Stark’s word is law.” May rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

 

“Of course it is.”

 

Peter allows himself a smile. A second later, he realises that was exactly what they wanted. He doesn’t mind, though. “Isn’t anyone wondering how I took down seven armed men? Won’t they know I…?”

 

“Well, you see,” Mr Stark says, “between the grateful hostages, the robbers being varying degrees of concussed, a little Stark magic and Happy being his wonderful self, no one’s really sure what happened in the lobby.”

 

“Oh.” Peter sits up a little straighter, shrugging off a weight he hadn’t even realised was there. “Cool. Okay.”

 

“My word is law.”

 

“Your word is law.”

 

“Don’t encourage him,” Pepper says with a gentle glare as she sits on the other side of Mr Stark. She’s holding the baby monitor in one hand.

 

Happy, after a brief pause, sits beside May and Rhodey takes the armchair.

 

“No, do encourage me. My word is law, huh? I’m buying you a house.”

 

“No, Mr Stark-!”

 

“And we need to finish the college shopping trip. No hostage situations.”

 

“Hopefully not.”

 

They all sit in comfortable silence for a second.

 

The baby monitor blinks on.

 

_“Boss-“_

 

“I’ve got it, FRIDAY,” Peter says and gently extricates himself from the pile on the couch, being mindful of Mr Stark’s injured arm.

 

“You sure?” Mr Stark says.

 

“You said it.” Peter throws them all a shit-eating grin as he walks out. “I’m the favourite.”

 

“Well, he’s back to normal,” Happy mutters.

 

The rest of the apartment is almost silent in comparison to the living room; only Morgan’s cries are breaking through the quiet, but she settles almost instantly when she sees who it is.

 

“What is it now?” he says to her. “You’re supposed to be sleeping through the night.”

 

Morgan gives him a look that could be offended as he picks her up. She’s getting so big so fast; it scares him sometimes.

 

“What? You’ve had dinner, you’re in your night time nappy – what is it? You upset we’re all hanging out without you, hm?” He debates for a minute: she’s supposed to be getting to bed as regularly as possible, but she doesn’t cry often anymore, so… “Okay, but just for tonight. They’ll accuse me of spoiling you.”

 

Morgan babbles happily as he carries her back towards the sitting room. She’s been getting more vocal lately, sometimes making noises approaching words.

 

Mr Stark looks up and shakes his head. “You spoil her, kid.”

 

“Told you,” Peter whispers to Morgan before raising his voice. “What, like she doesn’t have you wrapped around her finger?”

 

“I’m her dad. I’m _supposed_ to be wrapped around her finger.”

 

“Well, I’m her big brother.” Peter slides back onto the couch. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

 

“Kih!”

 

“Take that as a yes.”

 

“Wow, you speak baby now, kid?”

 

“Kih! Kih!”

 

“Oh my God,” Pepper whispers. “Is she…?”

 

“Kih!”

 

“Is she saying kid?” May says. “Oh, please. This is too good.”

 

“Her first word is _kid_?” Mr Stark says. “I only say it around Peter…”

 

“She thinks my name’s Kid?”

 

Happy laughs so hard he nearly falls off the sofa.

 

“Mr Stark! Morgan thinks my name is Kid! This is all your fault!”

 

“I think Happy should share some of the blame.”

 

“Kih!”

 

Peter shakes his head in despair. “I should be proud of you, but I just feel so betrayed.”

 

“Kid doesn’t hold her while she gets her shots.” Mr Stark shares a glance with Rhodey and they both explode with giggles.

 

“She’s going to grow up calling me Kid!”

 

“That’s your name. My word is law, remember?”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“No, you don’t.”

 

“Try me.”

 

Mr Stark ruffles Peter’s hair with his good hand and Peter basks in the warmth of his family.


	27. asylum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re going to cure you, one way or the other.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Cure me?”
> 
>  
> 
> “We’ll do our best to rid you of your mutation. Failing that, we can at least make sure you know not to use it. We’re going to help you be normal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's like 3:15am here helpppp. this chapter is a little odd? but i hope you like it. i can't believe this story is nearly done.
> 
> thank you guys for being so patient and understanding with me! i definitely feel more alive and functional now, but whoever coughed on me at twenty one pilots last week, i just want to talk.
> 
> warnings for non-graphic torture and some gaslighting/manipulation

“He’s waking up. Peter? Can you hear me?”

 

Peter groans.

 

“Almost there. We have lots of experience calculating dosages for people like you.”

 

People like him? That would ring alarm bells if he wasn’t so woozy.

 

“Good boy, Peter.” Hands run through his hair like he’s a dog. “Just relax. We’ll show you to your room in a moment.”

 

His room?

 

“Now, we’ll just get you settled. You’ll be spending a lot of time here.” There’s a man and a woman dressed in nurse uniforms either side of him.

 

“Where…is here?”

 

“The Mutant Asylum, silly boy. You can’t simply be allowed to roam the streets.”

 

Oh, no.

 

Peter tries to sit up but something pulls on his wrists. He glances down; he’s restrained to a hospital gurney. No matter how hard he pulls, he can’t break free.

 

“Vibranium, dear,” one of the nurses says cheerfully as she starts to wheel his bed. “Like I said, we’re used to people like you.”

 

The corridor is long and bright, white walls and cold blue lights. Peter shivers against the cold metal gurney; the squeaking of its wheels set his teeth on edge.

 

“No…” He tries to struggle. “You have to let me leave-“

 

“Don’t be silly.”

 

“Don’t talk to me like I’m five.”

 

They just smile down at him like they’re indulging a toddler.

 

* * *

 

His room is white and cold and sparse, and he’s barely there for five minutes before the door opens with a bang. Peter flinches.

 

“The doctor wants to see you.”

 

“The what?”

 

It’s like a horror movie, big men in white suits with gloves reaching out for him, and Peter wants this to be a bad dream more than he’s ever wanted anything, but he isn’t waking up.

 

Mr Stark is going to find him.

 

He’s still weak and groggy, but he still tries to put up a fight as they pull him down the corridor.

 

“Hello, Peter.”

 

This shit only happens in movies, Peter swears. He lets the weirdly silent guards push him into a chair in front of the man in a doctor’s coat

 

“You have superhuman abilities, is that right?”

 

Peter slumps in the chair, folds his arms and glares.

 

“Disrespectful, as well. That can be dealt with.”

 

That jolts Peter out of his sullen silence. “Dealt with?”

 

“Your treatment can begin immediately.”

 

“What…what-?”

 

“We’re going to cure you, one way or the other.”

 

 _“Cure_ me?”

 

“We’ll do our best to rid you of your mutation. Failing that, we can at least make sure you know not to use it. We’re going to help you be normal.”

 

“You can’t just…” Peter tries to think through the half-terrified, half-drugged fog in his brain. “People are gonna…miss me. My family…”

 

“Don’t you remember? They sent you here.”

 

“No.” May wouldn’t. Mr Stark wouldn’t.

 

“They still love you, don’t worry. They just want you to be normal.”

 

Normal. He’s not normal.

 

They _wouldn’t_.

 

The only trouble is, he can’t think how else he could have gotten here. He can’t remember anything.

 

“So, firstly I want to test the extent of your abilities-”

 

_Nope._

 

Peter jumps up and bolts for the door.

 

He barely gets two steps down the corridor before the guards appear from nowhere and grab his arms.

 

“Fast,” the doctor notes, like Peter storming out of his office wasn’t a clear enough signal. “I think we’re going to have to restrain him, gentlemen.”

 

And Peter slides into darkness again.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up, he’s strapped into a chair. The same doctor from before is leaning over him.

 

“Now, just relax,” the doctor says. “This might hurt, but it’s worse if you struggle.”

 

It does hurt. Peter struggles anyway.

 

* * *

 

When they come to collect him the second time, he realises they have no idea how strong he is without drugs slowing him down.

 

So he fights.

 

The two guards are out cold and he’s searching their belt for keys when the vents open and a weird smell starts to seep into the room.

 

He’s sinking to the floor before he can even think about holding his breath.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t talk.”

 

“But-“

 

“I said be quiet.”

 

A jolt of electricity shocks through him.

 

“You will learn to stay silent.”

 

He can’t move he can’t move _he can’t_ -

 

It hurts.

 

_It hurts it hurts it hurts-_

 

He wants to go home.

 

“Good boy, Peter.”

 

Peter. He’s Peter.

 

* * *

 

They drop him on the floor inside his room, not even taking him over to the bed, and leave him shuddering on the floor.

 

He’s alone for a long time, cold and hungry and exhausted. He loses track of the days. Someone down the corridor screams during the night. Peter feels like screaming too.

 

* * *

 

The next time the footsteps stop outside his room, he clambers up the wall and perches in the corner without even thinking.

 

The men walk in, glance up, and walk out.

 

The strange smell fills the room again. Peter tries to keep his grip on the ceiling, but he slips to the ground and the world fades away.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up, they’re tightening the straitjacket across his back.

 

He tries to fight, but too long with too little food means he’s weak, no match for the four guards holding him down.

 

“Please,” Peter cries. This is the worst feeling imaginable: trapped and helpless. He’s Spider-Man, he should be able to defend himself, but here he is with his arms strapped in front of him.

 

They share a glance and one of them ties a white strip of cloth over his mouth.

 

It doesn’t stop him crying.

 

* * *

 

Now he can’t climb the walls to escape. He can’t fight or lash out when they come to take him. He sleeps uncomfortably, waking up to the sound of his own sobs, and he can’t even wipe the tears from his cheeks.

 

He wants to go home. It seems like a faraway fantasy now, a dream of a former life: May’s apartment of warm yellows and oranges; Mr Stark’s lab with the ‘Cosy Corner’ he set up especially for Peter; Midtown Tech’s corridors filled with laughter and the promise of college instead of cold and screams.

 

But they sent him here, didn’t they? They abandoned him. He’s not normal. They don’t want him.

 

* * *

 

They take the straitjacket off, but Peter doesn’t have the energy to fight even when his arms are free.

 

He’s too weak, too tired and hungry and cold, to walk by himself back to his room. They drag him and leave him on the floor.

 

He wishes he cared.

 

“Maybe now you’ve learned that you must behave like a normal human.”

 

Normal. He’s not normal.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up one night to a loud bang. Another one follows, then another and another, getting closer to his room.

 

“Peter?”

 

Another slam.

 

“Peter! Are you here?”

 

 _Bang_. The room across from him.

 

“Kid!”

 

 _Bang_. The room next door.

 

Maybe he should answer, if he could remember how to talk without the shock of fear and panic.

 

Bang. His door flies open and slams against the wall. Tony Stark stands in the opening, breathing hard, his Iron Man suit already retreating into its housing unit.

 

“Peter?” he whispers. There’s something so awful in his expression that Peter can’t even put a name to it.

 

Peter. He’s Peter. And that’s Mr Stark.

 

“Kid.” Mr Stark steps into the room and Peter tries not to flinch, because if they come in, they want to take him away and that means something bad- “I’m so sorry. It took so long to find you, and when I realised what this place was…”

 

Peter watches him approach.

 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Mr Stark says. “I’d never do that, I promise. Whatever they did to you, it’s never happening again.”

 

Peter stares, trying to understand. It’s hard to feel like a fully-functioning person with everything that’s happened since he woke up in this place.

 

“Come on, kid. Underoos, remember? I made your suit, then took it away because I’m terrible. You saved my plane. You stowed away on a goddamn spaceship. When you died, I tore the universe apart to get you back. You’re supposed to be going to college in a couple months. You’re Spider-Man. My Underoos, my Peter, my _kid_.”

 

Peter wants to reply, but the thought of more pain…

 

“Come on,” Mr Stark says, his voice breaking. “They haven’t done – please, they can’t have – it’s only been two weeks, Pete, you can’t-“

 

Pete. Is that him, too?

 

Spider-Man, Underoos, kid.

 

The names are all so different, but they’re all familiar somehow.

 

But Mr Stark…Mr Stark sent him here, didn’t he? Because Peter’s not normal.

 

Would Mr Stark do that?

 

“Mr Stark?” It comes out quiet and shaky, and he doesn’t understand why something seems to shatter behind Mr Stark’s eyes.

 

“Yeah, kid. I’m here.” Mr Stark steps forward and Peter has to remind himself not to flinch back. “It’s me, just me.”

 

It’s Mr Stark. Mr Stark won’t hurt him.

 

“You won’t…?”

 

“Never,” Mr Stark promises. “I don’t know what they did or what they said, but you’re my kid. My kid, Pete.”

 

Did they lie?

 

“I don’t remember…” Peter shakes his head. “I don’t know how I got here.”

 

“They grabbed you one night. You must have just…carried too many groceries to be normal or something like that. I couldn’t find you for ages, kid. And this place…it’s been running under the radar for so long I almost missed it.” Mr Stark sighs. “There’s so many kids in here, Pete, and some of them – their parents actually – May and I would never do this to you. We love you.”

 

They love him. They just want him to be normal.

 

“But I’m not…normal?”

 

“ _Peter_.”

 

 _That’s bad, right?_ Has he made him angry?

 

“Of course you’re not normal, but you’re…you. If you were normal, you wouldn’t be Spider-Man. You wouldn’t be Peter Parker, okay? You wouldn’t be my kid.”

 

Peter Parker. Mr Stark’s kid.

 

“You’re okay,” Mr Stark says.

 

Peter’s legs stumble forward before his brain can stop them and he crashes into Mr Stark’s chest. Arms close around him, but they’re gentle rather than threatening.

 

He’d forgotten what this felt like.

 

“You’re safe,” Mr Stark whispers, “you’re okay, kid, you’re safe, I’ve got you.”

 

Safe. He’s safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick heads up: tomorrow's prompt is suicide, which will not affect any of the main characters, but the chapter will discuss that topic and mental health in a fair bit of detail. so if you want to give it a miss, that is absolutely fine. look after yourselves!


	28. suicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Friday morning, Peter wakes up to his phone buzzing for so long it vibrates itself off his desk and onto the floor.
> 
>  
> 
> It stops buzzing, starts again, and then answers itself.
> 
>  
> 
> There’s only one person impatient, demanding and clever enough to force a call through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have FINALLY finished! read the end notes for more emotional gushing lol.
> 
> this is based pretty much off my friend and i at uni. we both live less than an hour away from home, and we still get horribly homesick and struggle with other aspects of our mental health, plus we're the eldest siblings and the first to leave, so our parents are empty-nesting pretty hard. i also asked them what's the worst part of their course (they do aerospace engineering) and they looked at me with haunted eyes and said 'materials'.
> 
> this chapter mentions suicide and discusses mental health issues pretty in-depth, so if you don't want to read it, that's absolutely fine. be careful!

It happens on a Thursday morning.

 

By lunchtime, almost everyone on campus knows a student was found dead in their dorm.

 

By late Thursday night, whispers are floating around that the student didn’t just _die_.

 

On Friday morning, Peter wakes up to his phone buzzing for so long it vibrates itself off his desk and onto the floor.

 

It stops buzzing, starts again, and then answers itself.

 

There’s only one person impatient, demanding and clever enough to force a call through.

 

Peter scoops his cell off the floor. “Hey, Mr Stark.”

 

_“Pete. Hey.”_

 

“Mr Stark, I don’t have class today until eleven,” Peter whines. “I’m trying to have a lie-in.”

 

_“I…”_

 

Peter frowns and sits up in bed; Mr Stark sounds actually worried.

 

_“Just wanted to talk to you, kid.”_

 

“So you called me four times before forcing the call through?” Peter says. “This is about that other student, isn’t it?”

 

Mr Stark sighs.

 

“I’m okay, Mr Stark.”

 

_“I just…I know college can be tough, especially at first, when you’re missing your friends from high school and you haven’t settled in yet – not that I had any friends from school – just make sure you’re taking care of yourself, okay?”_

 

“I will, I promise.”

 

_“And if you need to talk – about anything – you have your friends, you have May, you have me, you know that, right?”_

 

“Of course I have you. You’re basically – um, anyway. No, I mean, May’s pretty good at telling when I’m not feeling great, and she’d tell you. After Ben, I was…yeah. But I know how to…recognise it now.”

 

 _“Good, that’s good.”_ Mr Stark pauses. _“I’m basically what?”_

 

Okay, so he heard that. “You’re, uh, basically like my dad.” Peter cringes, waiting for the response.

 

 _“Well, that’s good, because you’re basically my kid.”_ Another pause. _“You said you’d felt…bad, before?”_

 

“Once or twice, yeah.“

 

_“And after everything that’s happened to you – you went to war when you were sixteen, kid. Believe me when I say that superheroes need help more than most, and it’s okay to ask for it.”_

 

“Mm.”

 

_“And that shit with the asylum…are you okay? Because I was in there for like ten minutes and it freaked me out-“_

 

“I’m fine,” Peter says quickly. “I don’t remember most of it.”

 

_“You can’t or you won’t?”_

 

“Isn’t the end result the same?”

 

_“Only in the short term.”_

 

Peter shrugs even though Mr Stark can’t see him.

 

 _“I_ heard _that.”_

 

“Oh, my God. You have, like, a dad Bat Signal.”

 

 _“Don’t shrug this shit off, Parker. Not with mental health. It’s too important.”_ Mr Stark sighs. _“It’s okay to have those days, you know, as long as they don’t become your life. Having a stupid brain isn’t your fault, and it took me far too long to realise that. But I guess your generation’s more clued up, aren’t you?”_

 

“We are,” Peter says, “and I think the whole world is now, after Thanos and all that.”

 

_“What a mess that was. Not as much of a mess as my fortieth birthday party, mind you. I’m amazed Nat, Pep and Rhodey still talk to me after that.”_

 

“Natasha was there?” Part of Peter knows Mr Stark is nervously rambling in an attempt to distract both of them, but he’s happy to just listen.

 

_“Uh-huh. Undercover at the time. I found out the next morning, with a hell of a hangover and a good dash of palladium poisoning.”_

 

“Why were you near enough palladium to feel the effects?”

 

_“Used to power my arc reactor, kid. It was killing me, and I was depressed and angry and lashing out instead of talking to people like I should’ve. Speaking of talking, really should’ve gone to therapy sooner after New York, because that was a shitshow and a half…”_

 

Peter just lies in bed and lets Mr Stark’s voice drown out the sound of the dorms around him.

 

 _“…I didn’t even think I could get PTSD until Strange looked at me weirdly on that spaceship. Obviously, Wanda didn’t help but she knows it was a shitty thing to do_ _now.”_

 

“Yeah.”

 

_“And…well, you didn’t see me after Thanos, but it wasn’t…wasn’t good. Really not good.”_

“Mr Stark,” Peter whispers, unable to stop his voice quivering.

 

_“I’m not telling you this to upset you. I’m telling you it’s okay to ask for help.”_

 

There’s so many things Peter wants to say.

_I knew there was a reason you were always my favourite Avenger._

_You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known._

_Thank you for telling me._

 

 _I’m sorry._ Probably best to avoid that one.

 

“I miss you,” he says instead.

 

 _“I miss you too, kid.”_ Mr Stark sounds like he’s swallowing down tears. _“How about we set a date for May and I to come up and see you, hm? Don’t know how Morgan will be in the car for that long, but you’ll be back for Thanksgiving. You can see her then.”_

 

“Yeah, sounds good.”

 

_“You enjoying it? You always sound like you’re having fun in your messages. Not too much fun, I hope.”_

 

Peter rolls his eyes.

 

_“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”_

 

“Oh my _God_!”

 

_“Making friends? Make sure you get a Rhodey; they’ll carry you through your bad days.”_

 

“We all need a Rhodey,” Peter agrees.

 

_“And call me. Any time of the day or night, I probably won’t be asleep-“_

 

“Mr Stark-“

 

_“-and even if I am, I’ll still pick up. Okay?”_

 

“Okay. Thanks, Mr Stark. If it makes you feel better, MIT is really good with counselling and stuff. Probably better than it was in the eighties.”

 

 _“Well, God knows I could’ve used that.”_ Mr Stark snorts _. “Send me your class schedule and I’ll work out a day for me and May to come up and annoy you.”_

 

“Mr Stark, that’s mean.” Peter pauses. “Aunt May could never annoy me.” It’s worth it for the laugh he gets. “Are…are you okay?”

 

_“I think I just remembered…how far away and cut-off college makes you feel. I missed my mom so much – my dad, not really, but whatever. I guess I didn’t realise it’s not that pleasant being the parent, either.”_

 

Peter grins. “What would the media say about this? Mr Stark being sappy? I thought you had a reputation.”

 

_“Oh, shh. Everyone knows Pepper’s in charge. It’s her house and I’m just living in it.”_

 

“It’s Pepper’s world and we’re all just living in it.”

 

_“Exactly.”_

 

“Wait, what time is it?” Peter pulls his phone away from his ear to check. “Ah, shit. I really should be getting ready right about now.”

 

_“Go on, don’t let me keep you from the wonders of education. What’s today?”_

 

“Circuits and then Robotics Materials.”

 

Mr Stark blows a raspberry. _“I know for a fact you could do that in your sleep. Do you really need to go?”_

 

“Are you encouraging me to skip class?”

 

_“Kid, I wrote the textbook on skipping class. Come on, promise I’m more educational than your professors.”_

 

“Remind me why you’re paying my tuition if you could just teach me?”

 

_“The authentic college experience. Handled responsibly, of course.”_

 

“Oh, of course.”

 

_“Let’s go talk to Morgan, shall we? She misses you.”_

 

“I miss her, too.”

 

_“Want me to video-call you?”_

 

“You sure I won’t be setting a bad example, in my pyjamas at ten in the morning?”

 

_“Authentic college experience.”_

 

“Yup.”

 

 _“One sec.”_ Mr Stark’s face fills his screen. _“Oh, there you are. Looking good, Parker.”_

 

“You woke me up!” Peter hurriedly flattens down his bed head.

 

_“Looking like a student. Hey, Morgan? Look who it is!”_

_“Pe’er!”_

_“That’s right!”_

 

“Hey, Morgan!” Peter sticks his tongue out. “At least she doesn’t call me Kid anymore.”

 

_“Only to your face, kid.”_

 

“Mr Stark!”

 

_“Kih!”_

 

“Come on!”

 

_“Just like being home, right, Pete?”_

 

“Yeah,” Peter smiles, feeling a lot lighter than he did when he woke up, “yeah, it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRSTLY i saw captain marvel yesterday and i was smiling the whole time and ahhhh!!! i love her so much and i would die for goose.
> 
> you guys! i can't believe this story is finished (ten days late, but shh). i wouldn't ever have gotten past the first few chapters without your amazing support, all the kudos and reads and every lovely comment that made me smile. thank you for sticking with it, even while i was dying while trying to write the last few prompts. and thank you to @spidersonangst on tumblr for making this challenge.
> 
> i'm sticking around in this fandom for a while, because you're all so lovely, so keep an eye out for when i post again. i expect endgame to kill me instantly, so hopefully i'll get something done before then.
> 
> thank you so much for reading through to the end!

**Author's Note:**

> i am on tumblr @akillerqueenwrites or my main blog @akillerqueenyouare. come say hi, leave questions, prompts or yell at me.


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